PR 3782 









»°-n^ 



s~ I 



'3?/ 






, -X - ^!l» «-v ^ ^■i _, 




''/fI'/;.-/,.Jl,:J.l'.,„a,JrrA'!'i:iJ iy,rf/, 4": S' ..^ 

18) (i. 



THE^IFiE 



W. 



DR. EDWARD YOUNG. 



The pen of biogi-aphy cannot be better employ- 
ed than in the ser\ice of an author, vho displayed 
eminent genius and abilities in tlie cause of virtue 
and religion. Such was Dr. Young, the subject of 
these memoirs. « 

His father, whose name was also Edward Youn^, 
was Fellow of Winchester Collegi', Rector of Ilpham 
in Hampshire, and, in the latter part of his life. 
Dean of Saruni ; chaplain io William and Mary, 
and afterwards to queen Anu. Jacob tells us that 
the latter, when Princess Royal, did him the honour 
to stand godmother to our poet ; and that, upon her 
ascending the throne, he was appointed Clerk of the 
Closet to her Majesty. 

It does not appear that this gentleman distinguish- 
cd himself in the Republic of Letters, others ise than 
by a Latin Visitation Sermon, preached in 1686, and 
by two volumes of Sermons, printed in 1702, and 
which he dedicated to Lord Bradford, tlu'ough whose 
interest he probably received some of his promotions. 
The Dean died at Sarum in 1705, aged 63 ; after a 
very short illness, as appears by the exordium of Bi-- 
-shop Burnet's sermon at the Cathedral on the follow- 
ing Sunday. " Death (said he) has been of late walk- 
JKg round us, and makmg breach upon breach upoK 
A 



* LIFE OF 

us, and has now carried away the head of this body 
V'lth a stroke ; so that he, whom you saw a iveek 
ago distnbuthig the holy mysteries, is now laid ia 
the dust. But he still lives in the many excellent 
directions he has left us, Aoth how to live and how 
to die." ^ 

Our author, who was an only son, was born at his i 
father's rectory, in 168U and received the first part 
of his education (as hisTathea^ad formerly done) at 
Winchester College ; from wpnce, in his 19th year, 
he was placed on the foundation of New College, 
Oxford ; whence again, on tlie death of the Warden 
in the same year, he was removed to Corpus Christi. 
In 1708, Archbishop Tennison nominated him to a 
law fellowship at AH Souls, where, in 1714, he took 
the degree of Bachelor of Civil Law, and five years 
afterward that of Doctor. 

Between the acquisition of these academic honours. 
Young was appointed to speak the Latin Oration on 
the foundation of the Codrington l^ibi'ary ; which he 
afterwards printed, with a dedication to the Ladies of 
that family, in English. 

In this part of his life, our author is said not to 
have been that ornament to virtue and religion which 
he afterwards became^ This is easy to be accounted 
for. He liad been released from parental authority 
by his father's death. ; and his genius and conversa- 
tion had introduced him to the notice of the witty 
and profligate Dtike of Wharton,* and his gay com- 
panions, by wliom his finances might be impi'oved, 
but not his morals. This is the period at which 
Pope is said to have told Warburton, our young au- 
thor had "much genius without common sense:" 
and it should seem likewise, that he possessed a zeal 
for religion with little of its practical influence ; for, 
with all his gaiety and ambition, he. was an advocate 
for Revelation and Christianity. Thus when Tindal,. 
the atiieistical pliilosopher, used to spend much of his 

• At the instigation. of this peer, he was once candidate for 
a seat in Parliament, but without success, and the exjiences- 
^Kte gaid by Wbarton.. 



DTI. YOUNG. 5 

time at All Souls, he complained : " The other boys 
I can alwaj's answer, because I know whence they 
have their "arguments, which I l^ave read an hundred 
times ; but that fellow Young, is continually pester- 
ing me with something of his own." 

This apparent inconsistency is rendered the more 
striking from the different kinds of composition in 
which, at this period, he was engaged : viz. a poli- 
tical Panegyric on the new Lord Lansdowne, and a 
sacred Poem on the Last Day, which was written in 
1710, but not published till 1713. It was .dedicated 
to the Queen, and acknowledges an obligation, which 
has been differently understood, either as referring 
to her having been his godmother, or his patron ; for 
St is inferred from a couplet of Swift's, that Young 
was a pensioned advocate of government : 

** Whence Gay was banish'd in disgrace, 
** Whei'e Pope will never shew his face, 

** Where Y must torture his invention, 

*• To flatter knaves, or lose his pension." 

This, however, might be mere report, at this pe" 
nod, since Swift was not over nice in his authorities^ 
and nothing is more common than to suppose the ad- 
vocate, and the flatterer of the great, an hireling. 
Flattery seems indeed to have been our poet's beset- 
ting sin through life ; but if interest was his object, 
he must have been frequently disappointed : and to 
those disappointments we probably owe some of his 
best reflections on human life. 

Of his Last Day, (his fii-st considerable perform- 
ance) Dr. Johnson observes, that it " has an equa- 
bility and pi-opriety which he afterwards either ne- 
ver endeavoured for, or never attained. Many pa- 
ragraphs are noble, and few are mean ; vet the 
whole is languid : the plan is too much extended, 
and a succession of images divides and weakens tlie 
general conception : But the great reason why the 
reader is disappointed is, that the thought of The 
Last Day makes every man more tlun poetical, by 



6 UFE OF 

spreading over his mind a general obscurity of sS^ 
cred horror, that oppresses distinction and disdains 
expi^ession." The subject is indeed tnily awful, and 
was peculiarly affecting to this celebrated critic, who 
never could, without trembling, meditate upon death, 
or the eternal world. The poet's theological system, 
moreover, was not, at least when he wrote this, the 
most consistent and evangelical : I mean he had not 
those views of the Christian atonement, and of par- 
doning grace, which give such a gloiy to his Night 
Thoughts, and would much more have illumined 
this composition. All the preparation he seems te 
have there in view, is 

By tears and groans, and never-ceasing care, 
*' And all the pious violence of pi'ayer," 

to fit himself for the Tribunal. Moreover, the pro- 
ject of future misery is too awful for poetic enlarge- 
ment, and makes the piece too terrible to be read 
with pleasure ; while the attempt to particnlaiize 
Uie solemnities of judgment, lowers their sublimity, 
and makes some parts of the description, as Dr. 
Johnson has observed, appear mean, and even bor- 
deriag on burlesque. Tliis poem, however, was 
well received upon the whole, and the better for be- 
ing written by a layman, and it was commended by 
the ministry and their party, because the dedication 
flattered their mistress and her government- — far too 
much, indeed, for the nature of the subject. 

Dr. Young's next poem was entitled, the Force of 
Religion, and founded on the deaths of Lady Jane 
Grey and her husband. ** It is written Avith ele- 
gance enough," according to Dr. Johnson ; but was 
" never popular :" for *' Jane is too heroic to be pi- 
tied." The dedication of this piece to tlie countess of 
Salisbury, was also inexctisabltj fulsome, and, I think 
profane. Indeed the author himself seems after- 
wards to have thought so ; for when he collected his 
smaller pieces into volumes, he very judiciously sup- 
pressed this and most of his other dedications. 



DR. YOUNG. 7 

Tn some part of his life. Young certainly went to 
Ireland,* and was there acquainted with tlie eccen- 
trical Dean Swift ; and his biographers seem agreed, 
that this Avas, most probably, during his connexion 
■with the Dake of Wharton, who went thither in 
1717. But he cannot have long remained there, as 
in 1719, he brought out his first tragedy of Busiris, 
at Drury Lane, and dedicated it to the Duke of New- 
castle. This tragedy had been written some years, 
though now first performed ; for it is to our author's 
credit, that many of his works were laid by him a 
considerable time before they were oftered to the 
public. Our gx'eat dramatic critic pi'onounces this 
piece " too far removed from known life," to affect 
the passions. 

His next performance was The Revenge, the dra- 
matic character of which is suflSciently ascertained 
by its still keeping possession of the stage. The 
hint of this is supposed to have been taken from 
Othello ; ** but the reflections, the incidents, and 
the diction, ai*e original." — The success of this in- 
duced him to attempt another tragedy, which was 
written in 1721, but not brt)ught upon the stage for 
thirty yeai's afterwai-ds ; and then vvithout success, as 
we shall have farther occasion to observe. It has 
been remarked, that all his plays conclude with sui- 
cide,f and I much fear the frequent introduction of 
this ujinatural crime upon the stage, has contributed 
greatly to its commission. 

We have passed over our Author's Paraphrase on 
Part of the Book of Job, in order to bring his dra- 

• From his seventh Satire it appears also, thai he was once 
abroad, probably about this time, and saw a field of battle co- 
vered with the slain ; and it is affirmed that once, with a clas- 
sic in his l»and, he wandered into the enemy's encampment, 
and had some difficulty to convince them, that he was only an 
absent poet and not a spy, 

t Our author seems early to have been enamoured with the 
Tragic Muse, and with the charms of inelaiieholy. Dr. Ridley 
relates, that, when at Oxford, he would sometimes sbut up 
his room, and study by a lamp at mid-day. 



« LIFE OF 

matic performances together. The Paraphrase has 
been Avell received, and has often been printed with 
his Night Thoughts. This would be admired, per- 
hajjs, as much as any of his Avorks, could we forget 
the original ; but there is such a dignified simplicity- 
even in our prose translation of the poetic parts of 
scripture, that Ave can seldom bear to see them re- 
duced to rhyme, or modern measures 

His next, and one of his best performances, is en- 
titled Tile Love of Fame the Universal Passion, in 
Seven characteristic Satires, originally published se- 
parately, between the years 1725 and 1728. This, 
according to Dr Johnson, is a " very great perform- 
ance. It is said to be a series of epigrams, and if it 
be, it is what the author intended : His endeavour 
was at the production of striking distichs, and point- 
ed sentences ; and his distichs, have the weight of 
sollf! sentiment, and his points the sharpness of re- 
sistless truth. His characters are often selected with 
discernment, and drawn with nicety ; his illustrations 
are often happy, and his reflections often just. His 
species of Satire is between those of Horace and 
Juvenal : He has the gaiety of Horace without his 
laxity of numbers ; and the morality of Juvenal, 
with gi'eater variety of images."— Swift indeed has 
pronounced of tliese Satires, that they should have 
been either " more merrj-^, or more severe :'* in that 
case, they might probably have caught the popular 
taste more ; but this does not prove that they would 
have been better. The opinion of the Duke of Graf- 
ton, howevei', was of more worth than all the opi- 
nions of the wits if it be true as related by Mr. 
Spence, that his grace presented the autlior with two 
thousand pounds. " Two thousand pounds for a 
poem '" said one of the Duke's friends : to whom 
his grace replied, that he had made an excellent 
bargain, for he thought it worth four. 

On the accession of George I, Young flattered him 
Avith an Ode, called Ocean, to which w as pi*efixed au 
introductory Ode to the King, and an essay on Lyric 
Poetry : of these the inoBt observable thing is, that 



DR. YOUNG. 9 

(he poet and the critic could not agree : for the "Rules 
of the Essay condemned the Poetry, and the Poetry 
set at defiance the maxims of tlie Essay. The bio- 
grapher of British Poets has truly said, " he had 
least success in his lyric attempts, in which he seems 
to have been under some malignant influence : he is 
always labouring to be great, and at last is only 
turgid." 

We now leave awhile the works of our author, to 
contemplate the conduct of the man. About this time 
his studies took a more serious turn ; and, forsaking 
the law, which he had never practised, when he was 
almost fifty, he entered into orders, and was, in 1728, 
appointed Chaplam to the King. One of Pope's bio- 
graphers relates, that, on this occasion Young ap- 
plied to his brother poet for direction in his studies, 
who jocosely recommended Thomas Aqviinas, which 
the former taking seriously, he retired to the suburbs 
with the angelic doctor, till his friend discovered 
him, and brought him back. 

His Vindication of Providence, and estimate of 
Human life, were published in this year ; they have 
gone through several editions, and are generally re- 
.garded as the best of his prose compositions : But 
the plan of the latter never was completed. The 
following year he printed a veiy loyal sei^mon on 
King Charles' Martyrdom, entitled. An Apology for 
Princes. In 1730, he was presented by his college 
to the rectory of Welwyn in Hertfordshire, worth 
about 3001. a year, beside the lordship of the manor 
annexed to it. TJfiis year he relapsed again to poe- 
try, and published a loyal Naval Ode, and Two 
Epistles to Pope, of which nothing particular need 
be said. 

^He was married, in 1731, to Lady Elizabeth LeCi 
widow of Colonel Lee, and daughter to the Earl o^ 
Litchfield ; and it w as not long before she brought 
him a son and heir. 

Sometime , before his marriage, the Doctor walk, 
ing in his garden at Wehvyn, with his lady and ano- 
ther, a servant came to tell him a gentleman wished 



10 L^E oe 

to speak to him. « Tell him," said the Doctor, « I 
am too happily engaged to change ray situation.'* 
The ladies insisted that he should go, as his visitor 
was a man of rank, his patron, and his friend ; and 
as persuasion had no eifect on liim, they took him, 
one by the right hand, and the other by the left, and 
led him to the garden-gate. He then laid his hand 
upon his heart, and in the expressive manner, for 
ivhich he was so remai4cable, uttered the following 
lines : 

** Thus Adam look'd when from the garden driven, 
And thus disputed orders sent from Heav'n : 
like him I go, but yet to go am loth : 
Like him I go, for angels drove us both. 
Hard was his fate, but mine still more unkind : 
His Eve went witJi him, but mine stays behind.*' 

Another striking instance of his wit is related in 
reference to Voltaire : who, while in England, (pro- 
bably at Mr. Doddington's seat in Dorsetshire) ridi- 
culed, with some severity, Milton's allegorical per- 
sonages. Sin and Death ; on which Young, who was 
one of the company, immediately addressed him in 
the following extemporaneous distich : 

** Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin, 

*< Thou seem'st a Milton, with his Death and Sin*' 

Soon after his marriage, our author again indulged 
his poetical vein in two odes, called The Sea Peace, 
■with a poetical Dedication to Voltaire, in which the 
above incident geems alluded to in these lines, 

** On Dorset downs, when Milton's page 
« With SiJi and Death provok'd thy rage." 

In 1734 he printed an Argument for Peace, which 
afterward, with several of his smaller pieces, and 
most of his dedications, was consigned by his own 
hand to merited oblivion: in which circumstance 



DR. YOUNG. U 

he deserves both . the thanks and imitation of pos- 
terity . 

About the year 1741 he had the unhappiness to 
lose his wife ; her daughter by Colonel Lee, and 
this daughter's husband, Mr. Temple. What afflic- 
tion he felt for their loss, may be seen in his Night 
Thoughts, written on this occasion. They are ad- 
dressed to Lorenzo, a man of pleasure, and of the 
world ; and who, it is generally supposed, was his 
own son, then labouring under his father's displea- 
sure. His son-in-law is said to be characterized by- 
Philander, and his Lady's daughter was certainly the 
person he speaks of under the appellation of Narcis- 
sa.— (See Night III.) In her last illness, whicli Avas 
a consumption, he accompanied her to .Montpelher: 
or, as Mr. Croft says, to Lyons, in the South of 
France, at which place she died soon after her 
arrival. 

Being regarded as an heretic, she was denied 
christian burial, and her afflicted father was obliged 
to steal a gi-ave, and inter her ])rivately with his owu 
hands ;* (See Night III.) In tliis celebrated poeru 
he thus addresses Death : 

** Insatiate archer! could not one suffice .'* 

« Thy shaft flew thrice, and tin-ice my peace was 

" slain ; 
** And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her 

** horn. 



• I take the liberty of iiisei-tini^ here a passage from a letter 
written by Mr. W. Taylor, from Moiitp llier, to his sister, 
Mrs. Moiincliei, in the precetling year 1739, which may be 
considered as curious, and will bt* interesting and affecting 
to the admirers of Dr Young and his Narcissa: 

" I k!u>w you, as well as myself, are not a little partial tc 
'♦ Dr. Young. Had you been with me in a soliiai-y walk ihf 
" other day, you would have shed a tear over the n mains ol 
" his dear Narcissa. I was walking in a place calL-d the King'; 
" Garden ; and there 1 saw the spot wheio she was interi'Sl. 

"Mr. J , Mrs. H— — , and mjself, had some convcrsatioT 

** With thfc gardener resp. eting it; who told us, that about 4.' 
" years ago. Dr. Young was here with his daughter ins ixe' 



12 LIFE OF 

These lines have been universally understood of 
the above deaths ; but tliis supposition can no av ay 
be reconciled with Mr. Croft's dates, who says, Mrs. 
Temple died in 1736, Mr. Temple in 1740, and 
Lady Young in 1741. Which quite inverts the order 
of the poet, who makes Narcissa's death follow Phi- 
lander's t 

** Narcissa follows e'er his tomb is clos'd." 

Night IIL 

There is no possible way to reconcJe these con- 
tradictions : either we must reject Mr. Croft's dates, 
for which he gives us no authority, or we must sup- 
pose the characters and incidents, if not entirely fic- 

" health ; that he used constantly to he walking backward and 

* forward in this garden (no doubt as he saw her gradually de- 
" dining, to find the most solitary spot, where he might shew 
" his last token of atfection, by leaving her remains as secure 
^ as possible from those savagi s, who would have denied her a 
'' christian burial : for at that lime, an JLiighshu.an in this 
" connti-y was looked upon as an heretic, infidel, and devil. 
" They begin now to Vtrgt from ihtn- bigotrj, and :.lio\v iliera 
" at least to be n.en, thougii not christians, I believe ,) and 
" that he bribed the under gardener, beloiiging to his father, 
'' to let him bury hisdai-ghter, which he did ; pointed out the 
' most solitary place, and dug ihe grave i he man, tlirough 
'• a pr vatt door, admitted the Doctor ai midnight, bringing his 
" beloved daughter, wrapped up in a shet t, upon his shoulder 
» he laid her in the hole, sat down, and (as the man expressed 
n\l)* rained tears '^ 'AVith pious sacrilege a ^lavt 1 stole.' 
" The man who was thus bribed is dead, but the master is still 
" living. Before ihe man died, they were one day going to 
" dig, and set some fiowers, &c. in this si)ot where she was 

* buried, ''lie mill said to his master, • Don't dig there ; tor, 
^ so many years ago, 1 buried an Englisli lady there ' I he 

* master was much surprised ; and as Doctor Young's book had 
' Hiaue mui-h iio;se in France, it led him to enciuire into the 
"matter: and only two years ago it was known for a certainty 
♦that tliat was ilie pliict, and in this way: Ihere was an 
' English iioblemau h^ie, who was acquainted with the go- 
' vernor ot tins piace ; and wishing to ascertain the fact, he ob- 

* lamtd peiniission lo dig up the ground, whoe he found 
' some bones, which were eNamiutd by a surgeon, and pro- 
' nouuced to be tlie remains oi a human body : this, tliere- 
■ lore, puts the auUienticity of it beyond a Uoubt."-'See EviUl* 
! Mag. for 1797, p. 444. 



DR. YOUNG 13 

tltious, as the author assures us that they are not, 
were accommodated by poetic licence to his purpose. 
As to the character of Lorenzo, whether taken from 
real life, or moulded purely in the author's imag;ina- 
tion, Mr Croft has sufficiently proved that it could 
not intend his Son, who was but eij^ht years old when 
the ^'eater part of the Niglit Thonglits was written ; 
for Night Seventh is dated, in the original edition, 
July 1744. 

For the literaiy merits of this work we shall again 
refer to the criticism of Dr. Johnson, wiiich is seldom 
exceptionable, when he is not warped by political 
prejudices. " In his Night Thoughts," says the 
Doctor, speaking of our author, " he has exhibited 
a very wide display of original poetry, variegated 
with deep reflections and striking allusions; a wil- 
deiMiess of thought, in which the fertility of fancy 
scatters flowers of ev'iy hue, and of evei-y odour. 
This is one of the few poems in which blank verse 
could not be changed for rhyme, but h ith ilisadvan- 
tage. The wild dift'usion of the sentiments and the 
digressive sallies of imagination, would have been 
compressed and restrained by confinement to rhyme. 
The excellence of this work is not exactness, but 
copiousness : particular lines are not to be regan.l- 
ed ; the power is in the whole ; and in the whole 
there is a magnificence like that ascribed to Chinese 
plantations, the magnificence of vast extent and end- 
less diversity." 

So far Dr. Johnson. — Mr. Croft says, " Of these 
poems the two or three first have been perused 
more eagerly and more frequently than the rest. 
When he got as far as the fourth or fifth, his origi- 
nal motive for taking up the pen was answered : his 
grief was natiu-aily eitlier diminished or exhausted. 
We stiil find the same pious poet; but Ave hear less 
of Philander and Narcissa, and less of the mourner 
whom he loved to pity." 

Notwithstanding one might be tempted, from some 
passages in the Nigiit Thoughts, to suppose he had 
taken his leave of terrestrial things, in the alarming 



U LIFE GF 

year 1745, he could not i>efraiii from returning again 
to politics, but wrote Poetical Reflections on the 
State of the Kingdom, originally appended to the 
Night Thoughts, but never re-printed vith them. 

In 1753, his tragedy of The Bi'otlurs, written 
thirty years before, now first appeared upon the 
stage. It had been in reliearsal when Young took 
orders, and was withdrawn on that occasion. The 
Rector of Welwyn devotf^l 10001. to '' The Society 
for the propagation of the Gospel," and estimating 
the probable produce of this play at such a sum, he 
pei'haps thought the occasion might sanctify the 
means ; and not thinking so unfavourably of the stage 
as other good men have done, he committee 1 the 
monstrous absurdit\^ of giving a play for the propa- 
gation of the gospel ! The author was, (as is often 
the case with authors) deceived in his calculation. 
The Brothers was never a favourite with the public : 
but that the society might not suffer, the doctor 
made up the deficiency fi-om his own pocket. 

His next was a prose performance, entitled, *' The 
Centaur not fabulous ; in Six Letters to a Friend on 
the Life in Vogue." Tlie third of these letters 
describes the death-bed of " the gay, young, noble, 
ingenious, accompiished, and most wretched Alta- 
mont," whom report supposed to be Lord Euston. 
But whether Altamont or Loi'enzo were real or fic- 
titious charact,ers, it is certain the author cf>uld be 
at no loss for models for them among the gay nobili- 
ty, with whom he was acquainted. 
' In 1759, appeared his lively "Conjectures on Ori- 
ginal Composition ;" which, according to Mr. Croft, 
appear " more like the production of untamed, un- 
bridled youth, than of jaded fourscore." This let- 
ter contains the pleasing account of the death of Ad- 
dison, and his dying address to Lord Warwick.— 
*' See how a Christian can die !" 

In 1762, but little before his death. Young pub- 
lished his last, and one of his least esteemed poems, 
*' Resignation," which was written on the following 
occasion : — 'Observir.g that Mrs. Boscawen, in the 



DR. YOUNG. 15 

midst of her grief for the loss of the admiral, 
derived consolation from a perusal of the Night 
Thoughts, her friend, Mrs. M jntague, propose! a 
visit to the author, by whom they were favourably 
received ; and were i)leased to confess that his " liu- 
bounded ge.nus appeared to greater advant;ige in ihe 
companion than even in tlie author; that the Chris- 
tian was in him a character still more hispired, mure 
enraptured, more sublim*:; than the poet, and that, 
in his ordinary conversation, 

" Letting down the golden chain from high, 

" He drew his audience upward to the sky." 

On this occasion, at the request of these ladies, the 
author produced his Resignation, above-mentioned, 
and which has been so unmercifully treated by the 
critics ; but it has, in some measure, been rescued 
from their hands by Dr. Johnson, who says, " It 
was falsely represented as a |)roof of decayed facul- 
ties. There is Voung in every stanza, such as he 
often Avas in his highest Aigour." 

We now approach the closing scene of our au- 
thor's life, of wbicli, unhappily, we have few [)ar- 
ticulars. For three or four years before his death, 
he appears to have been incapacitated, by the infirm- 
ities of age, for public duty : yet he perfectly enjoy- 
ed his intellects to the last, and even his \ivacity ; 
for in his last illness, a friend mentioning the recent 
decease of a person who had long been in a decline, 
and observing, *' that he was quite worn to a shell 
before he died;" " very likely, replied the doctor ; 
*'but what is become of the kernel P''''— He is said 
to have regretted to another friend, that his Night 
Thoughts, of all his works most calculated to do 
good, were written so much above the understanding 
of common readers, as to contract their sphere of 
usefulness : This, however, ought not, perhaps, to be 
regretted, since thei*e is a great sufficiency of good 
books for common readers, and the style of that 
work will always introduce it where plainer compo- 
sitions would not be read. 



IS LIFE OP 

A^nf^'^iTfiV^^/^'''T^^^ ^'"'"'^^ ^^ Wehvrn, 
Apui 12, 1765, and was btu-ied, according to his de- 
sire, by the side of his lady, under the altar-piece of 
that church ; which is said to be ornamented in a 
singular manner with an elegant piece of needle- 
work by Lady Young, and some appropriate inscrip- 
tions, painted by the direction of the doctor. 

His best monument is to be found in his works ; 
but a less durable one, in marble, was erected by 
his only son and heir, with a veiy modest and sensi- 
ble inscription. This son, Mr. Frederick Young, 
had the first part of his eilucation at Winchester 
school, and, becoming a scholar upon the foundation, 
was sent, m consequence thereof, to New College, 
m Oxford ; but there being no vacancy (though the 
society waited for one no less than two years) he 
was admitted in the mean time in Baliol, where he 
behaved so imprudently as to be forbidden the col- 
lege.* This misconduct disobliged his father so 
much, that it is said he would never see him after- 
wards : however, by his will he bequeathed to him the 
bulk of his fortune, which was considerable, reserv- 
ing only a legacy to his friend Stevens, the hatter at 
1 emple-gate, and 100 1. to his house-keeper, with 
his dying charge to see all his manuscripts destroy- 
ed ; which may have been some loss to posterity, 
though none, perhaps, to his own fame. 

Dr. Young, as a christian and divine, has been 
reckoned an example of primeval piety. He was an 
able orator, but it is not known whether he compo- 
sed many sermons ; and it is certain that he publish- 
ed very few. The following incident does honour to 
his feelings : vvhen preaching in liis turn one Sunday 
at St. James's, finding he could not gain the atten- 

* ^^''V^*"^^* denies this circumstance, ami calls the poet's 
son Ills friend.~He does not, however, pretend to vindicate 
the c.»nduct of the youth ; but lie relates his rep; ntauce and 
regret, whicli is far better. Perhaps it is not possible wliully 
lo vuidicate the father. Great genius, even accompanied 
with piety, is not al wavs most ornamental to domestic iHe ; and 

the prose of ordinary occurvences," says Crett, " is beneath 
, tae qjgnity of poets. 



DR. YOUNG. 17 

Uon of his audience, his pity for their folly got the 
better of all decorum ; he sat back in the pulpit, and 
burst into a flood of tears. 

His tuni of mind was naturally solemn ; and he 
usually when at home in the country, spent many 
hours Avalking among the tombs in his own church 
yard. His conversation, as well as writings, liad all a 
reference to a future life ; and this turn of mind mixed 
itself even with his improvements in gardening ; he 
had, for instance, an a cove, with a bench so well 
painted in it, that at a distance it seemed to be re^l ; 
but upon a nearer approach the deception was per- 
ceived, and tliis motto appeared : 

INVISIBILIA NOX DECIPICTNT. 

The things unseen do not deceive us. 

In another part of his garden was also this inscrip- 
tion : 

AMBULANTES IN HORTO AUDIERUNT VOCEM DEI. 

They heard the voice of God walking in the garden. 

This seriousness occasioned him to be charged 
■with gloominess of temper ; yet he was fond of rural 
sports and innocent amusements. He Mould some- 
times visit the assembly and the bowling green ; and 
we see in his satu'es that he knew how to laugh at 
folly. His wit was poignant, and always levelled at 
those who shewed any contempt for decency or reli- 
gion ; an instance of which we have remarked in his 
extemporary epigram on Voltaire. 

Dr. Young rose betimes, and engaged with his do- 
mestics in the duties of Morning Prayer. He is said 
to have read but little ; but he noted what he read, 
and many of his books were so swelled with folding 
down his favourite passages, that they would hardly 
shut. He was moderate in his meals, and rarely 
drank wine, except when he was ill ; being (as he 
used to say) unwilhng to waste the succours of sick- 
ness on the stability of health. After a slight re- 



18 LIFE OF 

freshment, he retired to rest early in the evening, 
even though he might have company who wished to 
prolong his stay. 

He lived at a moderate expence, rather inclined 
to parsimony than profusion ; and seems to have pos- 
sessed just conceptions of the vanity of the world ; 
yet (such is the inconsistency of man ! ) he courted 
honours and preferments at the borders of the grave, 
even so late as 1758 ; but none were then confer- 
red. It has, however,- been asserted, that he had a 
pension of 2001. a year from government, conferred 
under the auspices of Walpole. 

At last, when he was full fourscore, the author of 
the Night Thoughts, 

*' Who thought e'en gold itself might come a day too 
late," 

was made Clerk of the Closet to the Princess Dowa- 
ger of Wales. What retarded his promotion so long 
is not easy to determine. Some attribute it to. his 
attachment to the Prince of Wales and his friends ; 
and others assert, that the King thought him suffi- 
ciently provided for Certain it is, that he knew no 
straits in pecuniary matters ; and that in the method 
he has recommended of estimating human life, ho- 
nours are of little value. 

His merits as an author have already been consi- 
dered in a review of liis works ; and nothing seems 
necessary to be added, but the following general cha- 
racters of his composition, from Blair and Johnson. 

Dr. Blair says, iu his celebrated lectures : " Among 
moral and didactic poets, Dr. Young is of too great 
eminence to be passed over without notice. In all 
his works, the marks of strong genius ai)pear. His 
Universal Passion, possesses the full merit of that 
animated conciseness of style, and lively description 
of character, which I mention as requisite in satiri- 
cal and didactic compositions. Though his wit may 
often be thought too sparkhng, and his sentences too 
pointed, yet the vivacity of his fancy is so great, as 



DR. YOHNG. n 

to entertain every reader. In his Night Thoughts 
there is much energy of expression ; in the three 
first, there are several pathetic passages ; and scat- 
tered through them all, happy images and allusions, 
as well as pious reflections, occur. But the sentiments 
are frequeatly over-strained, and tui-gid ; and the 
style is too harsh and obscure to be pleasing." 

The same critic has said of our author in another 
place, that his ** merit in figurative language is great, 
and deserves to be remai'ked. No writer, ancient 
or modern, had a stronger ima^nation than Dr; 
Young, or one more fertile in figures of every kind ; 
his metaphors are often new, and often natural and 
beautiful. But his imagination was strong and rich, 
rather than delicate and correct." 

These strictures may be thought severe ; but it 
should be remembere<l, that an author derives far 
more honour from such a discriminate character, 
from a judicious critic, than from the indiscriminate 
commendation of an admirer. The following is the 
conclusion of Dr. Johnson's critique, and shall con- 
clude these memoii-s. 

*' It must be allowed of Young's poetry, that it 
abounds in thought, but without much accuracy or 
selection. — ^When he lays hold on a thought, he pur- 
sues it beyond expectation, [and] sometimes happily, 
as in his parallel of quicksilver and pleasure .... 
which is very ingenious, very subtle, and almost ex- 
act 

** His versification is his own ; neither his blank 
nor his rhyming lines have any resemblance to those 
of former writers ; he picks up no hemisticks, he 
copies no favourite expressions ; he seems to have 
laid up no stores of thought or diction, but to owe 
all to the fortuitous suggestions of the present mo- 
ment. Yet I have reason to believe that, when 
once formed a new design, he then laboured it with 
very patient industry, and that he composed with 
great labour and frequent revisions. 

** His verses are formed by no certain model ; he 
13 ao more like himself ia lus difiereut productions 



20 LIFE OF 

than he is like others. He seems never to have stu- 
died prosody, nor to have any direction, but from 
his own ear. But Avith all his defects, he was a 
man of genius, and a poet." 



P. S. The materials of the above Life are taken 
from the article referring to our author in Johnson's 
Lives of the Poets, written by Mr. Herbert Croft, 
with the Critique of Dr. Johnson, compared with 
the Biographia Britannica, and other respectable 
authorities. 



DR. YOUNG. 



VERSES TO THE AUTHOR. 



Now let the Atheist tremble, thou alone 
Canst bid his conscious heart the Godhead own. 
Whom shalt thou not reform ? O thou hast seen 
How God descends to judge the souls of men. 
Thou beard*st the sentence how the guilty mourn. 
Driven out from God, and never to i-etum. 

Yet more, behold ten thousand thunders fall, 
And sudden vengeance wrap the flaming ball. 
When Nature sunk, when every bolt was hurl'd. 
Thou saw'st the boundless ruins of the world. 

When guilty Sodom felt the burning rain. 
And sulphur fell on the devoted plain, 
The Patriarch thus, the fierj' tempest past. 
With pious horror view'd the desart waste ; 
The restless smoke still wav'd its curls around. 
For ever rising from the glowing gix)und. 

But tell me, oh ! what heav'nly pleasure, tell, 
To think so greatly, and describe so well ! 
How wast thou pleas'd the wondrous theme to try, 
And find the thought of man could rise so high ? 
Beyond this world the labour to pursue. 
And open all eternity to view ? 

But thou art best delighted to rehearse 
Heaven's holy dictates in exalted verse. 
O thou hast power the harden'd heart to warm. 
To grieve, to raise, to terrify, to charm ; 
To fix the soul on God ; to teach the mind 
To know the dignity of humankind ; 
By sti'icter rules well-govern'd life to scan, 
And practise o'er the angel in the man. 

Magd. Col. " T. WARTON. 

Oxon. 



PREFACE. 

AS the occasion of this poem was real, and not 
fictitious ; so the method pursued in it was rather 
imposed, by what spontaneously arose in the Au- 
thor's mind, on that occasion, than meditated or de- 
signed, which will appeal' very probable from the 
nature of it ; for it differs from the common mode 
of poetry, which is, from long narrations, to draw 
short morals. Here, on the contrary, the narrative 
is short, and the morality arising from it, makes the 
bulk of the poem. The reason of it is, that the 
facts mentioned, did naturally pom* these moral re- 
flections on the tliOHght of the writer. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

Night 1. On life, Death, and Immortality 25 

2. On Time, Death, and Friendship 37 

3. Nacissa 57 

4. The Christian Triumph - - - - 7t 

5. The Relapse 93 

6. The Infidel Reclaimed, Part I. - 123 

7. n. - 149 

8. Virtue's Aopology 187 

9. The Consolatiou 225 



COMPLAINT. 

NIGHT FIRST. 

Oy LIFE, DEATH, AKD IMMORTALITY. 



To the Right Honourable Arthur Onslow, Esq. Speaker of 
the House of Commons. 



A IR'D Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! 
He, like the world, his ready visit pays. 
Where fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; 
^ Swift on his downy pinions flies from woe. 
And lights on lids unsully'd with a tear. 

From short (as usual) and disturb'd repose, 
I M ake : how happy they, who Avake no more ! 
Yet tliat were vain, if dreams infest the grave. 
I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams 
Turault'ous ; where my wreck'd, desponding thought, 
Fi'om wave to wave offmin/'d misery. 
At random drove, her helm" of reason lost : 
Though now restorM, 'tis only change of pain, 
(A bitter change !) severer for severe : 
The Dai/ too short for siy distress ! and J\7£'htf 
E-v-'n in the zeiiith of her dark domain. 
Is sunshine to the colour of my fate. 

M§-ht, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, 
In rayless majesty now stretches forth 
B 



26 THE COMPLAINT. 

Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumb'ring world. j 

Silence, how dead ! and darkness, how profound ! I 
Nor eye, nor list'ning ear, an object finds : 
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as tlie gen'ral pulse 
Of life stootl still, and Nature made a pause ; 
An awful pause ! prophetic of her end. 
And let her prophecy be soon fulfiU'd ; 
Fate ! drop the cuilain ; I can lose no more. 

Silence and Darkness ! solemn sisters ! twins t 

From ancient J\'ight, who nurse the tender thought ' 
To Reason, and on Reason build Resolve, 
(That column of true majesty in man) 
Assist me : I will thank you in the gi'ave ; 
The gi'ave, your kingdom : tliere this frame shall faH j 
A victim sacred to your dreary shrine. I 

But Avhat are ye ? — \ 

Thou ! Avho didst put to flight j 
Primseval Silence, when the morning-stars, I 

Exulting shouted o'er the rising ball ; ' 

Thou ! whose word from solid JDarkiiess stinick j 
That spark, the sun ; strike wisdom from my soul ; | 
;My soul, which flies to thee, her trust, her treasure, 
As misers to their gold, Avhile others rest. 

Through this opaque of nature and of soul, \ 

This double night, transmit one pitying ray, } 

To lighten, and to cheer. O lead my mind, | 

{A niind that fain would wander from its woe) ( 

Lead it through various scenes of life and death ; ! 
And fi-om each scene, the noblest truths inspire. | 
Nor less inspire my conduct than my song- : i 

Teach my best reason, reason ; my best will, 
Teach rectitude ; and fix my firm resolve 
Wisdom to wed, and pay her long an-ear. 
Nor let the vial of thy vengeance, poui-'d 
On tliis devoted head, be pour'd in vain. 

The bell strikes o7ie. We take no note of time. 
But from its loss. To give it then a tongue, 
is Avise in man. As if an angel spoke, 

1 feel tlie solemn sound. If heard aright. 
It is the k7iell of my departed hours : 

'W&ere are they ? With the years beyond the flood 



NIGHT FIRST. Sr 

It is the signal that demands despatch : 

How much is to he done ! My hopes and fears 

Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow verge 

Look down — on what P a fathomless abyss ; 

A dread eternity ! how surely vmie ! 

And can eternity belong to me. 

Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour \ 

How poor, how rich, how abject, how augoist. 
How complicate, how wonderful is man ! 
How passing wonder he, who made him such ! 
Who center'd in our make such strange extremes ! 
From diff'rent natures, marvellously mix'd. 
Connection exquisite of distant worlds ! 
Distinguished linh\\\ being's endless chain ? 
JMiihoay from nothing to the Deity ! 
A beam ethereal, sully'd and absorpt ! 
Though sully'd, and dishonour'd, still divine ! 
Dim miniatui'e of gi*eatness absolute ! 
An heir of glory ! a frail child of dust ! 
Helpless immortal ! insect infinite ! 
A worm ! a god ! I tremble at myself, 
And in myself am lost ! At home a stranger. 
Thought wanders up and dov n, surpris'd, aghast> 
And M ond'ring at her o~mi} : how reason reels ! 
O what a mhacle to man is man, 
Triumphantly distress'd ! w hat joy, what dread ! 
Alternately transported, and alarm'd ! 
What can preserve my life r or what destroy ? 
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the gi-ave ; 
Legions of angels can't confne me tliere. 

'Tis past conjecture ; all things rise in proof : 
"Wliile o'er my limbs Sleep's soft dominion spreads. 
What, though my soul fantastic measures trod 
O'er faiiy fields ; or mourn'd along the gloom 
Of pathless Avoods ; or down the craggy steep 
Hurl'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool ; 
Or scal'd the cliff; or danc'd on hollow winds. 
With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain ! 
Her ceaseless flight, though devious, speaks her 

nature 
Of subtler essence, than the Irodden clod ; 



28 THE COMPLAINT. 

Active, aereal, tow'ring, unconfin'd, 

Unfetter'd with her gross companion's fall. 

Ev'n silent night iwoclaims my soul Immortal; 

Ev'n silent night proclaims eternal day : 

For human weal, heav'n husbands all events, 

Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain. 

Why then tlieir loss deplore, that are not lost ? 
Why -w anders wretched thought their tombs around. 
In infidel distress ? Are angels there ? 
Slumbers rak'd up in dust, ethereal fire ? 
- They live ! they greatly live ! a life on eartli 
Unkindled, unconceived ! and from an eye 
Of tenderness, let heavenly pity fall 
On me, more justly numbered with tiie dead. 
This is the desert, this the solitude : 
HoAv populous ! how vital is the grave ! 
This is creation's melancholy vault. 
The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom ; 
The land of apparitions, empty shades ! 
All, all on earth is sliadorv, all beyond 
Is substance ; the reverse is folly's creed; 
How solid all, where change shall be no more ! 

Tills is tlie bud of being, the dim dawn, 
The twilight of our day, the vestibule : 
Life's theatre as yet is shut, and Death, 
Strong Death, alone can heave the massy bar, 
This gi'oss impediment of clay remove. 
And make us embryos of existence free. 
From real life, but little more remote 
Is he, not yet a candidate for light, 

'The future embi70, slumbering in his sire. j 

Embiyos we must be, till we burst the shell, | 

Yon ambient, azure shell, and spring to life, ; 

The life of gods, (O transport !) and of man. | 

Yet man, fool man ! here buries all his thoughts ; j 

Inters celestial hopes without one sigh : 
Pris'uer of eailh, and pent beneath the moon. 
Here pinions all his wishes ; wing'd by Heav'n 
To fly at infinite ; and reach it there, 
AVhere seraphs gather immortality. 
Oil life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God. 



NIGHT FIRST. 29 

Wliat golden joys ambrosial clust'ring glow 
In His full beam, and rijien for the just. 
Where momentary ages are no more ! 
Where Time, and Pain, and Chance, and Death ex- 
pire ! 
And is it in the flight of threescore years. 
To push eternity from human thought, 
And smother souls immortal in the dust ? 
A soul immortal, spendmg all her fires, 
Wastuig her strength in strenuous idleness. 
Thrown into tumult, raptur'd, or alarm'd, 
At aught this scene can threaten, or indulge, 
Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, 
To waft a feather or to drown a fly. 

Where falls this censure r It o'erwhelms myself 
How was my heart inorusted by the world ! 
O how self-fettered was my gi'ov'ling soul I 
How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round 
In silken thought, whicli reptile Fancy spun, 
'Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er 
With soft conceit of endless comfort AeJ'e, 
Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies t 

J\7§-/jf- visions may befriend (as sung above :) 
Our tvaking dreams arc fatal : how I dreamt 
Of things impossible I (could sleep do more ?) 
Of joys perpetual, in pei-petual change ! 
Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave ! 
Eternal sunshine in the storms of life ! 
How richly were my noontide trances hung 
W^ith goi-geous tapestries of pictur'd joys ! 
Joy behind joy, in endless perspective ! 
'Till at Death's toll, whose i-estless iron tongue 
Calls daily for his millions at a meal, 
Starting, I woke, and found myself undone. 
Where's now my phi-enzy's pompous furniture ■ 
The cob-iveb'd cottage, with its ragged wall 
Of mould'ring mud, is royalty to me ! 
The fipider^s most attenuated thread 
Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie 
On earthly bliss ; it breaks at ev'ry breeze. 

O ye bless'd scenes o^ permanent delight! 



30 THE COMPLAINT. 

Full, above measure ! lasting, beyond bound ! 
Al perpetvity of bliss is bliss. 
Could you, so rich in rapture, fear an end, 
That ghastly thought would drink up all youi' joy, 
\nd quite unparadise the realms of light ? 
safe are you lodg'd above these rolling spheres ; 
The baleful influence of whose giddy dance 
5heds sad \'icissitude on all beneath. 
Here teems with revolutions e>'*ry hour ; 
Vnd rarely for the better ; or the best, 
VIore mortal than the commoii births of fate, 
lliach moment has its sickle, emulous 
)f time's enormous scythe, Avhose ample sweep 
strikes emyjircs fi-om the root ; each mome7it plays 
iis little Aveapon in the narrower sphere 
)f sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down 
Che fairest bloom of sublunary bliss. 
Bliss ! sublunaiy bliss '.—proud words, and vain ! 

mplicit treason to divine decree ! 

V. bold invasion of the rights of heav'n ! 

clasp'd the phantoms, and I found tliem air. 

) had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace, 

Vhat darts of agony had miss'd my heart ! 
Death ! great proprietor of all ! 'tis thine 

^o tread out empire, and to quench the stars. 

"he sun himself by thy permission shines, 

Lud, one day, thou shalt pluck him from his sphere. 

miid such mighty plunder, \\hy exhaust 

"hy partial qui\;pr on a mark so mean ? 

Vhy thy peculiar rancour wreak'd on me ? 

iisatiate archer ! could not one suffice \ 

^hy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was 
slain ; 

ind thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her hom. 

) Cynthia ! why so pale ? dost thou lament 

"hy Avretched neigbbour P gi'ieve to see thy wheel 

)f ceaseless change outwhirrd in human life ? 

low wanes my borrorj'd bliss ! from Fortwie's smile, 

'recarious courtesy '. not Virtue's sure, 

elf-giv'n, salary ray of sound delight. 
In ev'ry vary'd posture, place, and hour, 



NIGHT FIRST. 31 

How vidow'd ev'ry thought of ev'ry joy ! 

Thought, busy thought ! too busy for my peace ! 

Through the dark postern of time long elaps'd, 

Led softly, by the stillness of the night. 

Led, like a murd'rer (and such it proves !) 

Strays (wretched rover!) o'er the pleasing />nsf .• 

In quest of wretchedness, perversely strays : 

And finds all desert no'cv ; and meets the ghosts 

Of my departed joys, a num'rous train ! 

I rue the riches of my former fate ; 

Sweet comfort's blasted clusters I lament; 

I tremble at the blessings once so dear ; 

And e>''ry pleasui'e pains me to the heart.' 

Yet why complain ? or why complain for one .' 

Hangs out the sun his lustre but for me. 

The single man ? are angels all beside ? 

1 mourn for millions : 'tis the common lot ; 

In this shape, or in that, has fate entail'd 

The mother's throes, on all of woman born. 

Not more the children, than sure heirs of pain. 

War, famine, iiest, volcano, storm, and fire. 

Intestine broils, Oppression, with her heart 

Wrapt up in triple brass, besieg'd mankind : 

God's linage, disinherited of day. 

Here plung'd in mines, foi-gets a sun w-as made ; 

There beings deathless as their haughty lord. 

Are hammer'd to the galhng oar for life ; 

And plough the winter's wave, and reap despaii* : 

Some, for hard masters, broken under arms. 

In battle lopt away, with half their limbs, 

Beg bitter bread, through realms their valour sa\'*d, 

If so the tyrant, or his nainions, doom : 

Want, and incurable disease (fell paii'!) 

On hopeless multitudes remorseless seize 

At once ; and make a refuge of the gi-ave : 

How gi'oaning hospitals eject their dead ! 

"Wliat nimibers gi'oan for sad admission thera ! 

What numbers once in Fortune's lap high-fed, 

Solicit the cold hand of Charity ! 

To shock us more, solicit it in vain ! 

Ye silken sons of pleasui-e ! since in pains 



32 THE COMPLAINT. 

You inie more mcJish visits, visit here, 
And breathe from yom- debaxicli ; give, and reduce 
Surfeit's dominion o'er you : But so gi'eat 
Your impudence, you blush at what is right ! 

Happy ! did sorrow seize on such alone ; 
Not Prudence can defend, or Virtue save ; 
Disease invades the chastest temperance ; 
And punisliment the guiltless ; and alai'm 
Thro' thickest shades pursues the fond of peace ; 
IMan's caution often into danger turns, 
And his guard falling, crushes him to death. 
Not Happiness itself makes good her name ; 
Our very wishes .dve us not our Avish ; 
How distant oft the thing we dote on most. 
From that for which Ave dote, felicity ! 
The smoothest course of nature has its pains, 
And truest friends, through error, Avound our rest ; 
Without misfortune, Avhat calamities ! 
And what hostilities, Avithout a foe ! 
Nor are foes wanting to the best on earth : 
But endless is the list of human ills. 
And sighs might sooner fail, than cause to sigh. 

A part hoAV small of the terraqueous globe 
Is tenanted by man ! the rest a -timste. 
Rocks, deserts, frozen seas, and burning sands ; 
Wild haunts of monsters, poisons, stings, and death 
Such is earth's melancholy map ! But far 
]More sad ! this earth is a true map of man : 
So bounded are its haughty lord's delights 
To Tf'oe's wide empire ; a\ here deei^ troubles toss ; 
Loud sorrows IiomI ; envenom'd passions bite ; 
Ravenous calamities our vitals seize. 
And threat'ning Fate Avide-opens to devour. 

What then am I, Avho sorrow for myself? 
In age, in infancy, from others' aid 
Is all our hope ; to teach us to be kind. 
That, Nature's j?r5^, last lesson to mankind : 
The selfish heart deserves the pain it feels ; 
More gen'rous sorroAv, Avhile it sinks, exalts. 
And conscious Aii-tue mitigates the pang. 
Nor virtue, nxoix thaa Prudence, bids me give 



NIGHT FIRST. 3:3 

Swol'n thought a second channel ; who divide. 
They a\ oaken too, the torrent of their grief: 
.Take then, O workl, thy much-indebted tear. 
Xow sad a sight is human ha]jpiness 
To tliose whose thought can pierce lieyond an hour ! 

thou ! whate'er thou art, whose heait exults ? 
Would' St thou I should congratulate thy fate ? 

1 know thou would'st ; thy iiride demands it from. me. 
I.et thy pride pardon Avhat thy nature needs. 

The salutary censiu-e of a friend. 

Thou happy ivretch ! by blindness thou art bless'd ; 

By dotage dandled to perpetual smiles. , 

Know, smiler ! at thy peril art thou pleas'd ; 

Thy pleasure is the promise of thy pain. 

JMlsforUine^ like a creditor severe, 

But rises in demand for her delay ! 

She makes a scourge of past prosperity, 

To sting thee more, and double thy distress. 

LoRKXzo, Fortune makes her court to tliee ; 
Thy fond heart dances, while the Siren sings. 
Dear is thy Avelfare ; think me not unkind ; 
I would not damp, but to secure thy joys : 
Think not that fear is sacred to the storm : 
Stand on thy guard against the smiles of fate. 
Is heav'n tremendous in its frowns ? most sure ; 
And in its favours formidable too : 
Its favours here are trials, not rewai"ds ; 
A call to duty, not discharge from care ; 
And should alarm us, full as mucli as Avoes 
Awake us to their cause, and consequence; 
[O'er our scann'd conduct give a jealous eye,] 
And make us tremble, Aveigh'd with our desert ; 
Awe Nature's tumult, and chastise her joys. 
Lest while Ave clasp, Ave kill them ; nay, invert 
To Avorse than simple miser}', their charms : 
Revolted joys, like foes in civil Avar, 
Like bosom-friendships to resentment sour'd. 
With rage euA'enom'd rise against our peace. 
BeAvare Avhat earth calls happiness ; beware 
All joys, but joys that never can expire : 
Who builds on loss than an immortal base, 

B '2 



34 THE COMPLAINT. 

Fond as he seems, condemns his joys to death. 

Mine dy'd Avith thee. Philander ! thy last sigh 
Dissolv'd the charm ; the disenchanted earth 
Lost all her lustre. Where her glitt'ring tow'rs ? 
Her golden mountains, where ? all darken'd down 
To naked waste ; a dreary vale of tears ; 
The great magician's dead ! Thou poor, pale piece 
Of outcast earth, in darkness ! what a change 
From yesterday ! thy dai'ling hope so near 
(Long-labour'd prize !) O how ambition flush'd 
Thy gloAving cheek ! Ambition truly great. 
Of virtuous praise : Death's subtle seed within, 
(Sly, treach'rous miner !) working in the dark, 
Smil'd at thy well-concerted scheme, and beckon'd 
The worm to riot on that rose so red, 
L^nfaded ere it fell ; one moment's prey ! 

Man's foresight is conditimiallii wise ; 
Lorenzo ! wisdom into folly turns 
Oft, the first instant, its idea fair 
To lab'ring thouglit is born. How dim our eye ! 
The present moment terminates our sight ; 
Clouds thick as those on doomsday, drown the ?iext/ 
AVe penetrate, we prophesy in vain. 
Time is dealt out by particles ; and each, 
E're mingled m ith the streaming sands of life, 
By Fate's inviolable oath is sa\ orn 
Deep silence, " Where eternity begins." 

By nature's law, v hat may be, may be ;zow : 
There's no prerogative in human hours. 
In human lieavts -»vbat bolder thought can rise. 
Than man's pivsumptiou on to-morrow's dawn .'' 
A\niere is to-moi-row .■' In another world. 
For numbers this is certain ; the reverse 
Is sure to none ; and yet on this perhaps, 
This peradvenUtre, infamous for lies. 
As on a rock of adamant Ave build 
Our mountain-hopes ; spin out eternal schemes, 
.As Ave the fatal sisters could out-sjjin. 
And, big with life's futurities, expire. 

Not. ev'n Philani)>:r had bespoke his shroud ; . 
Kor had he cause, a a\ arning was deny'd ; 



NIGHT FIRST. 35 

How many fall as sudden, not as safe ! 
As sudden, though for years admonish'd home. 
Of human ills the last extreme beware, 
Be-ware, Lohexzo ! a sloiv-sudden death. 
How dreadful that deliberate surprize ! 
Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer; 
Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; 
Thus on, till M'isdom is push'd out of life : 
Procrastination is the thief of time ; 
Tear after year it steals, till all ai-e fled. 
And to the mercies of a moment leaves 
The vast concerns of an eternal scene. , 
If not so frequent, Avould not this be strange i" 
That 'tis so frequent, tkis is stranger still. 

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears 
The palm, " That all men are about to live," 
For ever on the brink of being born. 
All pay themselves the compliment to think 
They, one day, shall not drivel ; and their pride 
On this reversion takes up ready praise ; 
At least, their own ; tlieir future selves applauds ; 
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead ! 
Time lodg'd in their oion hands is Folly's \m\5 ; 
That lodg'd in Fate's, to wisdom they consign ; 
The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone ; 
'Tis not in Folly, not to scorn a fool ; 
And scarce in human ivisdom to do more. 
AW promise is poor thlatory man. 
And that thro' ev'vy stage : when young, indeed. 
In full content, we sometimes nobly rest, 
Unanxious for onrselves ; and oidy wish. 
As duteous sons, our fath-ers wei-e more wise : 
At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; 
Knotvs it &t forty, and reforms his plan ; 
At fifty chides his infamous delay. 
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; 
In all the magnanimity of thought 
Resolves ; and re-resolves : then dies the same. 

And why ? Because he thinks himself immortal : 
All men think all men mortal, but themselves ; 
Themselves, when some alarn^ing shock of fate 



50 THE COMPLAINT. 

Strikes thro' their wounded hearts the sudden dread ; 
But then* hearts wounded, like the wounded air. 
Soon close ; where past the shaft, no trace is found ; 
As from the 7vi?ig- no scar the sky retains ; 
The parted wave no furrow from the keel ; 
So dies in human hearts the thoug;ht of death : 
E\''n with the tender tear which Nature sheds 
O'er those we love, we droj) it in their grave. 
TJan I foi-get Philander'/ That wei-e strange ; 

my full heart ! but should I give it vent, 
The longest night, though longer far, MOidd fail. 
And the lark listen to my midnight-%(m^. 

The sprightly larlc's shrill matin wakes the morn 
Grief's shai-pest tliorn hard-})ressing on my breast, 

1 strive, witli wakeful melody, to cheer 

The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel ! like thee, 

And call the stars to listen : ev'ry star 

Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy lay. 

Yet be not vain ; there are Mho thine excel, 

And charm through distant ages : wrapt in shade, 

Pris'ner of darkness ! to the silent hours. 

How often I repeat their rage divine. 

To lull my griefs, and steal my heart from woe ! 

I roll their raptures, but not catch their fire. 

Dai-k, though not blind, like thee, jSIceonides .' 

Or Milton ! thee ; ah ! could I reach your strain ! 

Or his, who made Mxonides our oivn. 

J^'Ian too he sung ; immortal man I sing ; 

Oft bursts my song beyond the bounds of life ; 

What, no~M, but immortality can please ? 

O had he press'd his theme, pursu'd the track, 

Wliich opens out of darkness into day i 

O had he mounted on his Aving of fire, 

Soai-'d, where I sink, and sung immortal man ! 

How had it bless'd mankir^d, and res<>u'd me ! 



COMPLAINT. 



XIGHT SECOND. 



ox TIME, IJEATH, AXD FRIENDSHir. 



To the Right Honourable the Earl of Wilmington. 



>V HEN the cock crew, he ^^•ept," — smote by 

that eye 
Wliich looks on me, on all ; that poAv'i* Avho bids 
This midnight-centinel with clafion shrill, 
(Emblem of that which shall awake the dead,) 
Kouse souls from slumber, into thoughts of heaven. 
Shall I, too, weep ? a\ here then is fortitude ? 
And fortitude abandon'd, where is man ? 
I knoAv tlie terms on which he sees the light : 
He that is born, is listed : life is war ; 
Eternal war with woe : who bears it best. 
Deserves it least. — On other themes I'll dwell. 
LoREXzo ! let me turn 7nij thoughts on thee. 
And thine on themes may pi-ofit ; pi'ofit there, 
Where inost thy need : themes, too, the gemiinr 

gi"Owth 
>f dear PHiLAjrDEn's dust. He, thus, tho' dead. 
May still befriend.— What themes? Timers -ivoti 

(Vrous price. 



38 THE COMPLAINT. 

Death, Friendship, and Philander' s^7ia? scene : 
[Themes meet for man ! and met at e\^iy hour. 
But most at this, at midnight, ever clad 
In Death^s own sables ; silent as his realms ; 
And prone to weep ; pi'ofuse of dewy tears 
O'er Nature, in her temporary tomb.] 

So could I touch these themes, as might obtain 
Thine ear, nor leave thy heart quite disengag'd. 
The good deed Avould delight me ; half impress 
On my dark cloud an Iris ,- and from gi'ief, 
Call glory. — ^Dost thou moiuTi Philander's fate ? 
I know thou say'st it : says thy life the same ? 
He mourns the dead, who lives as they desire. 
Where is that thrift, that avarice of Time, 
(O glorious avarice !^ thought of death inspires. 
As rumour'd robberies endeai* our gold ! 
O Time ! than gold more sacred ; more a load 
Than lead, to fools ; and fools reputed wise. 
What moment granted man without account .■' 
What years are squand'red ! wisdom's debt unpaid 
Our Avealth in days all due to that discharge. 
Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he's at the door. 
Insidious Death ! should his strong hand arrest, 
Ko composition sets the pvis'ner free : 
JEternity^s inexorable chain 
Fast binds ; and vengeance claims the full arrear. 

How late I shudder'd on the brink i' how late 
Life call'd for her last refuge in despair ! 
That Time is mine, O Mead ! to thee I owe ; 
Fain would I pay thee Avith eternity : 
But ill my genius answers my desire. 
My sickly song is mortal, past thy cure. 
Accept the will ; — ^that dies not with my strain. 
For what calls thy disease, Lores^zo ? not 
For f^SscuIapian, but for mr/ral aid. 
Thou think' St it folly to be wise too soon. 
Yonth is not rich in time ; it may be, poor : 
Part Avith it as Avith money, sparing ; pay 
No moment, but in purchase of its Avorth : 
And what its Avorth, ask deathbeds ; they can tell, 
Part with it as Avith life, reluctant ; big 



- NIGHT SECOND. 30 

With holy hope of nobler time to come : 
Time higher-aim'd, still nearer the gi-eat mavk 
Of men and angels ; virtue more divine. 

Is this our duty, wisdom, g-lori/, gain ? 
{These heav'n benign in vital union binds) 
And sport Ave like the natives of the bough, 
Wlien vernal suns inspire ! Amnseme7it reigns 
Man's great demand : to trifle is to live : 
And is it then a trifle, too, to die ? 
Tliou say'st I preach : Lorexzo ! 'tis confess'd. 
What if, for once, I preacii tliee quite awake ? 
Who wants amnsement in the flame of battle ! 
Is it not treason to the soul immortal. 
Her foes in arms, eternity the prize ? 
Will toys amuse, vhen med'cines cannot cure ? 
XVhen spirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes 
Their lustre lose, and lessen in our sight. 
As lands, and cities Avith their glitt'ring spires, 
'J'o the poor shatter'd bark, by sudden storm 
l-hroAvn oft' to sea, and soon to perish tliere ; 
Will toys amuse ? — No : thj-ones Avill then be toys, 
And eai'th and skies seem dust upon the scale. 
Redeem Ase time ?— its loss avc dearly buy. 
'\Vhat pleads LoiiExzo for his high-priz'd sports ? 
He pleads Time's nnm'rous blanks ; he loudly pleads 
The straAv-like trifes on life's common stream. 
From Avhom those blanks and tvijlest but from tliee ? 
No blank, no trifle, Nature made, or meant. 
Virtue, ov purposed yirtne, still be thine : 
17iis cancels thy complaint at once ; this leaves 
In act no trifle, and no blank in ti7}w •• 
This greatens, fills, immortalizes all ; 
This, the bless'd art of turning all to gold ; 
This, the good heart's prerogatiAc to raise 
A royal tribute from the poorest hours : 
Immense revenue ! ev'ry moment pai/s. 
If nothing more than purpose in thy povi-'r. 
Thy purpose firm, is equal to the deed : 
Who does the best his circumstance allows. 
Does Avell, acts nobly ; vmgels could no mox-e. 
Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint ; 



40 THE COMPLAINT. 

'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer. 
Guard well thy thought ; our thoughts are heard in 
heav'n. 

On all-important Time, through ev'ry age. 
Though much, and warm, the uise have urg'd ; the 

man 
Is yet unhorn, Avho duly weighs an hour. 
" I've lost a day" — ^the prince Avho nobly cry'd. 
Had been an emperor without his crown ; 
Of Rome ? say, rather, lord of human race ; 
He spoke, as if deputed by mankind. 
So should all speak : so Reason speaks in all. 
From the soft whispers of that god in man, 
AVliy fly to folly, why to frenzy fly 
For rescue from the blessings we possess ? 
Time, tlie supreme ! Time is eternity ; 
Pregnant Avith all eternity can give ; 
Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile ; 
Who murders Time, he crushes in the biith 
A pow'r ethereal, only not ador'd. 

Ah ! how unjust to Nature, and himself, 
Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man ! 
Like children babbling nonsense in their sports. 
We censure Nature for a span too short ; 
That span too short, we tax as tedious too ; 
Torture invention, all expedients tire. 
To lash the ling' ring moments into speed. 
And whirl us (happy riddance !) from ourselves. 
Ai't, brainless Art ! our furious charioteer 
(For JWUxire's voice xmstifled would recal) 
Ih'ives headlong tow'rds the precipice of (leflth ; 
Death, most our di'cad ; death thus more dreadful 

made. 
O what a riddle of absurdity ! 
Leis^ire is pain ; takes off our chariot-Avheels ; 
How heavily we drag the load of life ! 
Bless'd leisure is our curse : like that of Caiii, 
It makes us wander ; wander earth around 
To fly that tyrant. Thought. As Atlas groan'd 
The world beneatli, we gi-oan beneath an hour. 
We ciy for mercy to the next amusement ; 



NIGHT SECOND. 41 

Tlie next amusement mortgages our fields ; 
Slight inconvenience ! prisons hardly frown. 
From hateful Time, if prisons set us free. 
Yet when Death kindly tenders us relief, 
We call him cruel ; yeai's to moments shrink. 
Ages to years. The telescope is turn'd 
To man's false optics Tfrom his folly false ;) 
Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings. 
And seems to creep, decrepid with his age : 
Behold him, when past by ; what then is seen 
Rut his broad pinions swifter than the winds ? 
And all mankind, in contradiction strong, , 
Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career. 

Leave to thy foes these errors, and these ills ; 
To nature just, their cmise and C2ire explore. 
Not short heav'n's bounty, boundless our expense % 
No niggard, nature ; men are prodigals. 
[As bold Atphonsns threaten'd in his pride. 
We throw away our suns, as raa<le for sport, 
And not to light us, on our way to scenes 
Whose lustre turns their lusti'e into shade.] 
We -iuaste, not use our time : we bi-eathe, not live. 
Time ivasted, is existence, us'd, is life : 
And bare existence, man, to live ordained. 
Wrings and oppresses with enormous weiglit. 
And Avhy ? since Time was giVn for use, not waste, 
Tnjoiu'd to fly ; with tempest, tide and stars. 
To keep liis speed, nor ever wait for man ; 
Time's use was doom'd a pleasure ; waste, a pain ; 
That man might feel his error, if unseen ; 
And, feeling, fly to labour for his cure : 
Not, blund'ring, split on idleness, for ease. 
Life's cares are comforts ; such by liea^^n design'd ; 
He that has none, must make them, or be a\ retched. 
Cares ai'e employments ; and without employ 
The soul is on the rack ; the rack of rest : 
To souls most adverse ; action, all their joy. 

Hei*e, then, the riddle, mark'd above, ui'ifolds : 
Then Time turns torment, when man turns a fool. 
We rave, we wrestle with ^rea^ A'^ature' s plan i 
We thwart the Deity ; and 'tis decreed, 



42 THE COMPLAmr. 

Wlio thwart his -will, shall contradict theii own. 
Hence our unnat'ral quaiTel with ourselves ; 
Our thoughts at enmity ; our bosom-broil ; 
We push time from us, and Ave wish him back. 
Lavish of lustrums, and yet fond of life ; 
Life Ave think long, and short ; death seek, and shua ; 
Body and soul, like peeAish man and wife. 
United, jar, and yet are loth to pai-t. 

Oh the dai'k days of vanity ! Avhile here, 
HoAv tasteless ? and hoAv terrible, when gone ? 
Gone ? they ne'er go ; Avhen past, they haunt us 

still ; 
The spirit walks of ev'ry day deceas'd. 
And smiles an angel ; or a fui'y froAvns, 
Nor death, nor life delight us. If time pasfy 
And time possess' d, both pain us, Avhat can pleiise ? 
That Avhich the Deity to please ordain'd. 
Time ns'd. The man who consecrates his hours 
By vig'rous effort, and an honest aim. 
At once he draAvs the sting of life and death ; 
He walks ridth Mature^ and her paths are peace. 

Our error's cause and cure are seen : See next 
Time's nature, origin, importance, speed ; 
And thy great gain from ur^ng his career. 
All-sensual man, because untouch' d, unseen. 
He looks on time as nothing. Nothing else 
Is truly man's ; 'tis fortune s.- — ^Time's a God. 
Hast thou ne'er heard of time's omnipotence f 
For, or against, what wonders can he do ! 
And will : To stand blank neuter he disdains. 
Not on those terms was time (Heav'ns sti-anger) sent 
On his important embassy to man. 
Lorenzo ! no : On tlie long-destin'd houi*, 
Fi^om everlasting ages gi^OAving ripe. 
That memorable hour of Avond'rous birth. 
When the dread Sire, on emanation bent. 
And big Avith nature, rising in his might, 
Call'd forth creation (for then time Avas born) 
By godhead streaming thro' a thousand worlds ; 
Not on those terms, from tlie great days of heav'n, 
From old eternity's mysterious orb. 



NIGPIT SECOND. 43 

Was titne cut off, and cast beneath the skies ; 
The skies, which watcli him in his new abode. 
Measuring; his motions by revolving spheres; 
That horologe machinery divine. 
Hours, days, and months, and years, his children, 

play. 
Like num'rous wings, around him, as he flies : 
Or, rather, as unequal plumes they shape 
His ample pinions, swift as darted flame. 
To gain his goal, to reach his ancient rest. 
And join anew etermty his sire ; 
In his immiitabilitij to nest. 

When worlds, that count his circles ?Jow, unhing'd 
^ate the loud signal sounding) headlong rush 
To timeless night and chaos, whence they rose. 

Why spur the speedy ? Why with lenities 
New-wing thy short, shoil day's too rapid flight ? 
Know'st thou, or what thou dost, or Mhat is done ? 
Man flies from thne, and time from man: too soon 
In sad divoi'ce this double flight must end ; 
And then, where are we ? where, Lohexzo ! then 
Thy sports ? thy pomps i' I grant thee, in a state 
Not unambitious ; in the ruffied shroud. 
Thy Parian tomb's triumhhant arch beneath. 
Has death his fopperies ? Then well may life 
Put on her plume, and in her I'ainbow shine 

Ye well-array' d ! Ye lilies of our land ! 
Ye lilies male ! Avho neither toil, nor spin, 
(As sister lilies might,) if not so wise 
As Solomon, more sumpt'ous to the sight 1 
Ye delicate ! who nothing can support. 
Yourselves most insupportable ! for whom 
The winter rose must blow, the sun put oii 
A brighter beam in I.eo, silky-soft 
Favoimis breathe still softer, or be chid. 
And other worlds send odours, sauce, and song. 
And robes, and notions, fram'd in foreign loQms ! 
O ye LoKENZos of our age ! who deem 
One moment unamus'd, a misery 
Not made for feeble man ! who call aloud 
For ey'i-y bauble drivell'd o'er by sense, 



44 THE COMPLAINT. 

For rattles, and conceits of ev'iy cast. 

For change of follies and relays of joy. 

To drag your piiitient through the tedious length 

Of a short winter's c?ay— say, sages ! say. 

Wit's oracle*)^ say, dreamers of gay dreams , 

How will you weather an eternal nig-ht, 

Where such Expedients foil ? [where wit's a fool, 

Mh-th mourn85^&?eams vanish, laughter drops a tear.] 

O treach'rous conscience ! while she seems to sleep 
On rose and myrtle^ lull'd with syren song ; 
While sfte seems, nodding o'er her charge, to dx*op 
OnJieadlong appetite the slacken'd rein, 
Anxf give us up to Hce/ise, unrecall'd, 
Uumark'd ; — see, fi-om behind her secret stand. 
The sly informer minutes ev'ry fault, 
And her dread diaiy with horror fills. 
Not the gross act alone employs her pen ; 
She reconnoiters fanci/^s airy band, 
A Avatchful foe ! The formidable spy, 
List'ning, o'erhears the whispers of our camp : 
Om* dawning pm-poses of heart explores. 
And steals our embiyos of iniquity. 
As all-rapacious usurers conceal 
Their doomsday -book from all-consummg heirs ; 
Thus, with indulgence most severe, she treats 
Us spendthrifts of inestimable time y 
Unnoted, notes each moment misapply'd ; 
In leaves more durable than leaves of brass. 
Writes our whole liistory ; which death shall read 
In ev'iy pale delinquent's private ear ; 
And judgment publish ; j)ubljsh to more worlds 
Than tliis ; and endless age in gi'oans resound. 

Lorenzo, such that sleeper in thy breast ! 
Such is her slumber ; and her vengeance S7ich 
For slighted counsel ; such thy futui'e peace ! 
And think' St thou still thou canst be wise too soon ? 

But why on time so lavish is my song ? 
On this great theme kind nature keeps a school. 
To teach her sons herself. Each night we die. 
Each morn are born anew : Each day, a life ! 
And sliall we kill each day ? If trijiing kills. 



NTGHT SECOND. 45 

Sure vice must butcher. O what heaps of slain 

Cry out for vengeance on us ! T/???e destroy'd 

Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt. 

Time flies, death m*ges, knells call, Heav'n incites. 

Hell threatens : All exerts ; in effort, all ; 

Jifore than creation labours !— Laboui's 7nore ? 

And is there in creation, what, amidst 

This tumult universal, Aving'd despatch. 

And ardent energy, supinely yawns ? 

Man sleeps ; and man alone ; and many whose fatp, 

Fate, in'eversible, intire, extreme, 

Endless, hair-hung, breeze-shaken, o'er the gulpli 

A moment trembles ; drops ! and man, for whom 

All else is in alarm ! JUan, the sole cause 

Of this surrounding stprm ! And yet he sleeps, 

As the storm rock'd to rest. Throw years away ? 

Throw empires, and be blameless. JMhments seize ? 

Heav'n's on their wing : A moment Ave may wish. 

When worlds Avant Avealth to buy. Bid day stand still, 

Bid him drive back his car, recal, retake 

Fate's hasty prey : Implore him, i-eimpoit 

The period past, regive the giv'n hour. 

LoREXzo, more than miracles we Avant ; 

LoRKNzo — O for yesterdays to come ! 

Such is the language of the man aivake ; 
His aixlour such, for Avhat oppresses thee. 
And is his ardour vain, LoREif zo ? No ; 
niat more than mu-acle the gods indulge ; 
To-day is yesterday return 'd ; return'd 
Full-pow'r'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn. 
And reinstate us on the Rock of Peace. 
Let it not share its pi'edecessor's fate ; 
Noi', like its elder sisters, die a fool. 
Shall it evaporate in fume ? fly off" 
Fuli«pnous, and stain us deeper still ? 
Shall Ave be poorer for the plenty pour'd ? 
jMore wretched for the clemencies of Heav'n ? 

AVhere shall I find him ? Angels ! tell me Avhere. 
You know him^: He is near you : Point him out : 
Shall I see glories beaming from his brow ? 
Or trace his footsteps by the rising flow'rs ? 



4G THE COMPLAINT. 

Your golden wings, now hov'ring o'er him, shed 

Protection ; now, are waving in applause 

To that blest son of foresight ! Loi'd of late ! 

That a^rful independent on to-mon^oiu ! 

Whose ivork is done ; who triumphs in the past ; 

Whose yesterdays look backward with a smile ; 

Nor, like the Parthian, wound him as tliey fly ; 

That common, but ojjprobrious lot ! Past hours. 

If not by guilt, yet wound us by their flight. 

If folly bounds our prospect by the grave. 

All feeling of futurity benumb'd ; 

All god -like passion for eternals quench'd ; 

All relish of i-ealities expir'd ; 

Renounc'd all correspondence with the skies ; 

Our freedom chain'd ; quite wingless our desire ; 

In sense ^dai'k-prison'd all that ought to soar ; 

Prone tf> the centre ; c)*awljiig in the dust ; 

Dismounted ev'ry gi-eat and glorious aim ; 

Embruted ev^iy faculty divine ; 

Heart -burj'd in the rubbish of the world.— 

The world, that gulph of souls, immortal souls. 

Souls elevate, angelic, wing'd with fire 

To reach the distant iikies, and tiiumph there 

On Thrones, which shall not mourn tbeir masters 

chang'd ; 
Though we from earth ; ethereal, they that fell. 
Such veneration due, O man ! to man. 

Who venerate themselves, the world despise. 
For what, gay friend ! is this escutcheon'' d world, 
Wliich hangs out death in one eternal night .'' 
A night, that glooms us in the noon-tide ray. 
And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud. 
Life's little stage is a small eminence, 
Inch-high the gi-ave above ; that home of man, 
Where dwells the multitude ; we gaze around ; 
We read their monuments ; we sigh ; and while 
We sigh, we sink ; and are what we deplor'd ; 
Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot ! 

Is Death at distance ? No : He has been cax thcc 
And giv'n sure earnest of his final -blow. 



NIGHT SECOND. 47 

1 hose hours, wljich lately smil'd, where are tlxey 

now ? 
Pallid to thought, and ghastly ! drown'd, alldrown'd 
In that gi-eat deep, which no'thing disembogues ! 
And dying, they bequeath'd thee small renown. 
The rest are on the wing : How, fleet their flight ! 
Already has the fatal ti-ain took fire ; 
A moment, and the world's blown up to tliee ; 
The sun is darkness, and the stars are dust. 

'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; 
And ask them, what report they bore to heav'n ; 
And how^ they might have borne more welcome new 3. 
Their answers form what men experience call ; 
lixinscbm^s friend, her best; if not, worst foe. 
O reconcile them ! Kind experience ci*ies, 
" There's nothing hei-e, but what as nothing weighs ; 
** The more our joy, the more we know it vain ; 
*♦ And by success, are tutor'd to despau"." 
Nor is it only thus, but must be so. 
Who knows not this, thougli gi-ey, is still a child. 
Loose then from earth the gi*asp of fond desire. 
Weigh anchor, and some happier clime explore. 

Art thou so moor'd thou canst not disengage. 
Nor give thy thoughts a ply to future scenes ? 
Since, by lifers passing breath, blown up from earth, 
Light, as the summer's dust, we take in air 
A moment's giddy flight, and fall again ; 
Join the dull mass, increase the trodden soil. 
And sleep 'till eartli herself shall be no more. 
Since then (as Emmets, their small woi-ld o'er- 

thrown) 
We, sore-amaz'd, from out eaiili's ruins crawl. 
And rise to fate extreme of foul or fair. 
As man's own choice (controller of the skies !) 
As man's despotic will, perhaps wie hour, 
(O how omnipotent is time !) decrees ; 
ohould not each warning give a strong alarm ? 
Warning, far less than tliat of bosom torn 
From bosom, bleeding o'er the sacred dead ! 
Should not each dial strike «s as we pass, 
Portentous, as the ivritten ivaU, mddi struck, 



48 THE COMPLAINT. 

O'er midmght bowls, the proud Assyrian pale, 
Ere-Avliile high-flush'd with insolence and wine ? 
Like thaty the dial speaks ; and points to thee, 
Lorenzo ! loth to break thy banquet up : 
" O man! thy kingdom is departing from thee ; 
" And, while it lasts, is emptier than my shade." 
Its silent language such : Nor need'st thou call 
Thy inagiy to decypher what it means. 
KnoAv, like the JvTedean, fate is in tliy walls : 
Dost ask, Hoiu ? Wliejice ? JBehhazzar Uke, amaz'd! 
Man's make incloses the sure seeds of death ; 
Life feeds the mui'derer : Ingi'ate ! he thrives 
On her own meal, and then his nui-se devours. 

But hei'e, Lorenzo, the delusion lies ; 
That solar shado7v, as it measui'cs life. 
It life resembles too : Life speeds away 
From point to point, though seeming to stahd still. 
The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth : 
Too subtle is the movement to be seen ; 
Yet soon man's hour is up, and we ai*e gone. 
Warjvings point out our danger ; GnomonSy time : 
As these are useless when the sun is set ; 
So those, but when more glorious reason shines. 
Reason should judge in all ; in reason's eye, 
That sedentary shadow travels hard. 
IJut such our gi'avitation to the wrong, 
So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, 
'Tis later with the Avise, than he's aware ; 
A WilnmigtoJi goes slower than the sun : 
And all mankind mistake their time of day ; 
Ev'n age itself Fresh hopes are hourly sowu 
In fuiTOw'd brows. So gentle life's descent, 
We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain. 
We take fair days in winter, for the spring ; 
And tm'n our blessings into bane. Smce oft 
Man must compute that age he cannot yt?e^, 
He scarce believes he's older for his years. 
Thus, at life's latest eve, we keep in store 
One disappointment sure, to crown the rest ', 
The disappointment of a promis'd hour. 



XIGHT SECOND. -4^ 

* On this, or similar, Phiiaxder ! Thou 
Whose mind was moral, as the preacher's tongue ; 
And strong, to wield all science, worth the name ; 
How often we talk'd down the summer's sun. 
And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream ! 
How often thaw'd and shorten'd winter's eve. 
By conflict kind, that struck out latent truth. 
Best found, so sought ; to the recluse more coy ! - 
Thoughts disentangle, passing o'er the lip ; 
Clean runs the thread ; if not, 'tis thrown-away, 
Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song ; 
Song, fashionably fruitless ; such as stains 
The fancy, and unhallow'd passion fires ; 
Chiming her saints to Cytherea^s fane. 

Know'st thou, Lorenzo ! what a friend contains ?. 
As bees 7nix^d JKectar draw from fi-agant flow'rs, 
So men from FRiEiynsHip, wisdom and delight ; 
Twins ty'd by nature ; if they part, they die. 
Hast thou no friend to set thy mind abroach ? 
Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts, shut up, want 

air. 
And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun. 
Had thought been all, sweet speech had ])een deny'd; 
Speech, thought's canal ! Speech, Thought's criteriou 

too ! 
Thought in the. inine, may come forUi gold or (h*oss ; 
^V^\en coin'd in wbrd, Ave know its real worth. 
If sterling, store it for thy future use ; 
'TArill buy thee benefit ; perhaps renown. 
Thought too, deliver'd, is tbe more possest; 
Teaching, we learn ; and, giving, we retain 
The bu-ths of intellect ; as hen dumb, forgot. 
Speech ventilates our intellectual fire ; 
Speech biumishes our mental magazine ; 
Brightens, for ornament, and Avhets, for use. 
What numbers, sheath 'd in erudition, lie 
Plung'd to the hilts in venerable tomes, 
And rusted in ; who might have borne an edge, 
And play'd a sprightly beam, if bom to speech .' 
If born blest heirs to half theii- mother's tongue ! 



50 THE COMPLAINT. 

*Tis thought's exchange, which, like th' alternate 

jmsh 
Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum. 
And defecates the student^ standing pool. 
In contemplation is his proud resource ? 
'Tis poor, as proud, by converse unsustain'd. 
Rude thought runs wild in conteinplation^ s field; 
Converse, the menage, breaks it to the bit 
Of due restraint ; and eiynilation^ s spur 
Gives graceful energy, by rivals aw'd. 
''Tis converse qualifies for solitude! 
As exercise, for salutary rest. 
By that untutor'd, contemplation raves ; 
And 7iatnre's fool, by loisdoiri's is outdone. 

Wisdom, though licher than PeTiivian minep-. 
And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive, 
"What is she, but the mesons o{ happiness F 
That unobtain'd, than folly more a fool ; 
A melancholy fool, withovit her bells. 
Friendship, the means of wisdom, richly gives 
The precious end, which makes our wisdom wise. 
JVature, in zeal for human amity. 
Denies, or damps, an vndivided joy. 
Joy is an import ; joy is an exchange ; 
Joy flies monopolists : It calls for tivo ; 
Kich fruit ! Heav'n planted ! never pluck'd by 07W- 
Needful auxiliars are our friends^ to give 
To social man true relish of himself. 
Full on ourselves descending in a line 
Pleasure's bright beam, is feeble in delight : 
Delight intense, is taken by rebound ; 
Meverberated pleasures fire the breast. 

VARIATIONS. 

After line 11. the early editions read thus : 
** By that untutor'd, Contemplation raves 
" A lun r Prince, or famish'd Beggar dies ; 
** And Nature's fool, by Wisdom's is outdone." 

And lines 18 and 19, stand thus : 
'* Triendship the means, and Friendship richly ^ves 
*' The |>rcuous end," &c. 



KIGHT SECOND. 51 

Celestial happiness^ whene'er she stoops 
To \isit earth, one slirine the goddess finds. 
And one alone, to make her sweet amends 
For absent heav'n — the bosom of a friend ; 
Wliere heai*t meets heart, reciprocally soft. 
Each other's pillow to repose divine. 
Beware, the connterfeit : In passio?i^s flame 
Hearts melt ; but melt like ice, soon liarder froze. 
True love strikes root in reason ; passion's foe : 
Virtue alone entenders us for life : 
I wrong her much. — entenders us for ever : 
Oi friendships s fairest fruits, the fruit most fair 
Is virtve kindling at a rival fire. 
And, onulonsh/, rapid in her race. 
O the soft enmity ! Endearing strife ! 
This carries fi-iendship to her noon-tide point. 
And gives the rivet of eteimity. 

From friends/dp, which outlives my former tliemesj 
Glorious surviver of old time, and death ! 
From friendship, thus, tliat ilow'r of heav'nly seed> 
The w ise extract earth's most hybiean bliss, 
Superior wisdom, crown'd with smiling joy. 

But for whom blossoms this Eli/sianfmu'r ? 
Abroad t\\e.y find, vho cherish it at home. 
LoRExzo ! pardon what my love extorts. 
An honest love, and not afraid to frow n. 
I'hough choice of follies fasten on the greats 
None clings more obstinate, than fancy fond, 
That sacred friendship is their easy prey ; 
Caught by the wafture of a golden' liu-e'. 
Or fascination of a high-born smile. 
Their smiles, the great, and the coquet, throw cut 
For others hearts, tenacious of then- own ; 
And we no less of ours, when sv.ch the bait. 
Ye fortune's cofi*erei*s ! Ye pow'rs of wealth ! 
You do your rent-rolls most felonious vTOiig, 

VARIATION. 
After line 22, iu some editions, these are inserted} 
*' For joy, from Friendship bom, abounds in smilos 
'' 9 store it in the sours most golden cell !" 



52 THE COMPLAmT 

By taking our attachment to yo^irselves- 

Can gold gain friendship ? Impudence of hope 

As well mere man an angel might beget. 

Love, and love only, is the loan for love. 

LoKENZO ! Pride repress ; nor hope to find 

A friend, but what has found a friend in thee. 

All like the purchase ; few the price will pay ; 

And this makes friends such miracles below. 
What if (since daring on so nice a theme) 

I shew thee friendship delicate, as dear. 

Of tender \iolations apt to die ? 

Jieserve will wound it ; and distrust^ destroy. 

Deliberate on all things with thy friend. 

But since friends gi^ow not thick on ev'ry bough, 

Nor ev'ry friend unrotten at the core ; 

First, on thy friend, delib'rate with thyself; 

I*ause, jjonder, sift ; not eager in the choice. 

Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix ; 

Judge before friendship, then confide, till deatli. 

Well, for thy friend ; but nobler far, for thee ; 

How gallant danger for earth's highest pi'ize ! 

A fi-iend is worth all hazard we can run. 

** Poor is the friendless master of a M^orld : 

'* A world, in purchase for a friend, is gain.'* 

So sung he Tangels hear that angel sing ! 
Angels from friendship gather half their joy 
So sung Philaistder, as his friend went round 
In the ricli Ichor, in the gen'rous blood 
Of Bacchus, purple god of joyous wit, 
A brow solute, and ever-laughing eye. 
He drank long health, and virtue to his friend ; 
His friend, who Avarm'd him more, who more in- 

spir'd. 
Friendship's the wine of life ; but friendship tiext) 
(Not such was his) is neither strong, nor pure. 
O ! for the bright complexion, cordial warmth. 
And elevating spirit, of a friend, 
For twenty siunmers rip'ning by my side ; 
All feculence of falsehood long thrown down ; 
All social vu'tues rising in his soul ; 
.\s crystal clear ; aud smiling, as tbey rise ! 



3SnGHT SECOND. 53 

Jfere Nectar flows ; it sparkles in our sight ; 
Rich to the taste, and genuine from the heart. 
High -flavour 'd bliss for Gods ! on eaith how rare ! 
On earth how lost /— ■Philander is no more. 

Think'st thou the theme intoxicates my song ? 
Am 1 too warm ? — ^Too warm I cannot be. 
I lo\''d him much ; but now I love him more. 
Like birds, whose beauties languish, half conceal'd, 
'Till, mounted on the Ming, their glossy pliunes 
Expanded shine with azure, green, and gold ; 
How blessings brighten as they take their flight ! 
His flight Philander took ; his upward flight. 
If ever soul ascended. Had he dropt, 
(That Eagle genius !) O had he let fall 
One feather as he flew ! I, then, had wi'ote. 
What friends might flatter ; prudent foes forbear ; 
Rivals scarce damn ; and Zoilus reprieve. 
Yet what I can, I must : It were profane 
To quench a glory lighted at the skies. 
And cast in shadows his illustrious close. 
Strange ! the theme mast affecting, most sublime^ 
Momentous most to man, should sleep imsung ! 
And yet it sleeps, by genius unawak'd, 
Painim or Christian ; to the blush of wit. 
Man's highest triumph ! Man's profoundest fall \ 
The death-bed of the just! is yet undrawn 
By mortal hand : It merits a divine : 
Angels should paint it, angels ever there ; 
There, on a post of honour, and of joy. 

Dare I presume, then ? But Philander bids ; 
And gloi7 tempts, and inclination calls- 
Yet am I struck ; as stimck the so\d, beneath 
Aerisl groves^ impeneti'able gloom ; 
Or, in some migflity ntin's solemn shade ; 
Or grazing by pale lamps on high-bom dust, 
In vaults ; thin courts of poor unflatter'd kings J 
Or, at the midnight altar's hallow'd flame. 
It is religion to proceed : I pause— 
An.^ enter, awM, the temple of my theme. 
Is it his death-6erf ? No : It is Ids shrine : 
Behold hiro, there, just riaing to a Ggd. 



5i THE COMPLAINT. 

The chamber where the good man meets his fate. 
Is prlvileg'd beyond tlie common •walk 
Of virtiions life, quite in the verge of heav'n. 
Fly, ye profane ! If not, draw near with awe. 
Receive the blessing and adoi'e the chance. 
That threAv in this Bethesda your disease ; 
If unrestor'd by this, despah' your cure. 
For, here, resistless demonstration dwells ; 
A death -l>ed's a detector of the heart. 
Here, tir'd dissimnlation drops her mask. 
Through life's grimace, that mistress of the scene 
Here, real, and apparent, are the same. 
You see the man ; you see his hold on heav'n ; 
If sound his Airtue ; as Philakder's soiuid. 
Heav'n waits not the last moment ; owns hfer friends 
On this side death ; and points them out to men ; 
A lecture silent, but of sov'i'eign pow'r ! 
To vice, confusion ; and to virtue, peace. 

Whatever farce the boastful hero plays. 
Virtue alone has majesty in death ; 
And gi'eater still, the mwe the tyrant fi-owns* 
Philaivdeh. ! he sevei*ely fi'own'd on thee. 
*' No warning giv'n ! Unceremonious fate ! 
A sudden rush from life's mendian joys ! 
A wrench from all we love ! from all we are / 
A restless bed of pain ! a plunge opaque 
Beyond conjecture ! Feeble nature's dread ! 
Strong reasoii's shudder at the dark unknown ! 
A sun extinguish 'd ! a just op'ning grave ! 
And oh ! the last, last ; what ? (can words express .' 
Thought reach ?) the last, last — Silence of a friend 1" 
"Where are those horrors, that amazement where. 
This hideous gi-oup of ills, which siiigly shock. 
Demand from man ?— I thought him man till noxv. 

Thro' nature's wreck, thro' vanquish 'd agonies, 
(Like the stars struggling thix)' this midnight gloom) 
What gleams of joy ! what more than human peace ! 
Where, the fi*ail mortal ? tlie poor abject Morra ? 
No, not in death, the mortal to be found. 
His conduct is a legacy for all. 
Ri.chor than mmnmoii's for his single heir. 



MGHT SECOND. 5? 

His comforters he comforts ; gi'eat in ruin. 
With unreluctant grandeur, gives, not yields 
His soul sublime ; and closes with his fate. 

How our hearts burnt within us at the scene ! 
Whence, this brave bound o'er limits fix'd to man ? 
His God sustains him in his final hour ! 
His final hour brings glory to his God ! 
Man's ^lory heav'n vouchsafes to call her own. 
We gaze ; we weep ; mixt tears of gi-ief and joy ! 
Amazement strikes ! Devotion bui*sts to flame ! 
Christians adore ! and Infidels believe. 

As some tall tow'r, or lofty mountain's brow. 
Detains the sun, illustrious from its height ; 
While nsing vapours, and descending shades. 
With damps, and darkness, drown tlie spacious rale^ 
Undamp'd by doubt, undarken'd by despair, 
Philaxder, thus, augustly rears his head. 
At that black hour, which gen'ral hoiTor sheds 
On the low level of th' inglorious throng : 
Sweet peace, and heav'nly hope, and hnmhlc J oif. 
Divinely beam on his exalted soul ; 
Destruction gild, and crown him for tlie skies, 
With incommunicable lustre, Jwight. 



COMPLAINT. 

NIGHT THIRD, 

NARCISSA. 



To her Grace the Dutchess of P- 



Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere Mgnes.— Virg. 



F, 



ROM dremnSf where thought in fancy's maze 
rims mad, 
To reason, that heav'n lighted lamp in man. 
Once more I wake ; and at the destiu'd hour. 
Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn, 
I keep ifty assignation m ith my woe. 
O ! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought. 
Lost to the noble sallies of the soul ! 
Who think it solitude to be alone. 
Commmiion sweet! Communion large, and higlit 
Our reaaoti, guardian angel, and our God / 
Then nearest these, when others most remote ; 
And all, ere long, shall be remote, but tliese. 
How dreadful then, to meet them all alone, 
A stranger ! Unackno>vledg'd ! Unapiirov'd ! 
J\^QW woo them : wed them ; bind them to th) breast ; 
c 'Z 



5B THE COMPLAINT. 

To win thy wish, creation has no more. 
Or, if we wish Sifoiirthf it is a friend — 
But friends, how mortal ! Dang'rous the desire. 

Take PHEBrs to yourselves, ye basking bards ! 
Inebriate at fair fortune's fountain-head ; 
And reeling through the wilderness of joy ! 
Where sense runs savage, broke from reason'' s chain. 
And sings false peace, till smother'd by the pall. 
My fortune is unlike ; unlike my song ; 
Unlike the Deity my song invokes. 
I to day^s soft ey'd sister pay my court, 
(Exdtmion's rival !) and her aid implore ; 
Now first implor'd in succour to the irnise. 

Thou, who didst lately borrow Cynthia's * foi"ft), 
And modestly forego thine own ! O thou 
Who didst thyself, at midnight hours, inspu'e ! 
Say, why not Ctnthia, patroness of song ? 
As thou her cresent, she thy character 
Assumes ; still more a goddess by ilie change. 

Are there demurring wits, who dare dispute 
This revolution in the world insjnr^d ? 
Ye ti-ain Pieriaii ! to the I.uvar sphere. 
In silent hour, address yoiu* ardent call 
For aid immortal ; less lier brother's right. 
She, with the sphei'es harmonious, nightly leads 
The mazy dance, and hears tlieir matchless strain ; 
A strain for Gods, deny'd to mortal ear. 
Transmit it heard, thou silver queen of heav'p ! 
W^hat title, or what name, endears tliee most ! 
Cynthi v ! CiLLENE ! Phoebe ! — or dost hear 
With higher gust, fair P — —t> of the skies ? 
Is that the soil enchantment calls thee down, 
More pow'rfnl than of old Civcean charm ? 
Come ; but fi-om heav'nly banquets with thee bring 
The soul of song, and whis])er in mine ear 
The theft divine ; or in pro'^iitious dreams 
(For dreams are thine) transfuse it thro' the breas-t 
Of thy first votary—— But not thy last ; 
If, like thy 7ianiesake, thou art e^ er kind. 

* At the Duke of Korfglk's MBsqaerade. 



NIGHT THIRD. 59 

And kind thou wilt be ; kind on such a tlieme ; 
A theme so like thee, a quite lunar theme, 
Soft, modest, melanclioly, female, fair ! 
A theme that rose all pale, and told my soul, 
*Tw as 7iig]it ; on her fond hopes perpetual night ; 
A night which struck a damp, a deadlier damp. 
Than that which smote me from Phiiander's tomb; 
Nakcissa follows, ere his tomb is clos'd. 
Woes cluster ; rare are solitarij woes ; 
They love a train, they tread each other's heel ; 
Her death invades his mournful right, and claims 
The gi'ief that started from my lids for liim : 
Seizes the faithless, alienated tear, 
Or shares it, ere it falls. So frequent death, 
Sorrow he more than causes, he confounds ; 
For human sighs his riVal strokes contend. 
And make distress, distraction. Oh PuiLANDEa! 
What was thy fate ? A dciuble fate to me ; 
Portent, and pain ! a menace, and a blow ! 
Like the black raven hov'ring o'er my peace. 
Not less a bird of omen than of prey. 
It call'd Naucissa long before her hour ; 
It call'd her tender soul by break of bliss. 
From the fii'St blossom, from the buds of joy ; 
Those few our noxious fate unblasted leaves 
In this inclement clime of human life. 

Sweet harmonist ! and beautiful as SAveet ! 
And young as beautiful ! and soft as young '. 
And gay as soft ! and innocent as gay ! 
And happy (if aught happy here) as good ! 
For fortune fond, had built her nest on high. 
Like bu'ds quite exquisite of note and plume, 
Transfix'd hy fate (who loves a lofty mark) 
How from the summit of the grove she fell. 
And left it unhai"monious ! All its charm 
Extinguish'd in the wonders of her song! 
Her song still vibrates in my ra\ish'd ear. 
Still melting there, and Avith voluptuous pain 
(O to forget her !) thrilling through my heart ! 

Song, beauty, youth, love, virtue, joy ! this group 
Of bright ideas, flow'rs of paradise. 



60 THE COMPLAINT. 

As yet unforfeit ! in one blaze Ave binr?. 

Kneel, and present it to the skies ; as all 

We guess of heav'n : xVnd these were all her own. 

And she was mine ; and I was— tt'a^ most blest— 

Oay title of the deepest misery ! 

As bodies grow more poud'rons robb'd of life ; 

Good, lost, weighs more in grief, than gahi'd in joy. 

Like blossom'd trees o'ertmni'd by vernal storm. 

Lovely in death the beanteons rubi lay ; 

And if in death still lovely, lovelier there ; 

Far lovelier ! Pity swells the tide of love. 

And w411 not the severe excnse a sigh ? 

Scorn the proud man that is ashaiA'd to weep : 

Our tears indiilg''dy indeed deserve our shame. 

Ye that e'er lost an angel ! pity me. 

Soon as the lustre languisli'd in her eye, 
DaAvning a dimmer day on human siglit ; 
And on her cheek, the residence of spi-ing, 
Pale Omen sat ; and scattei-'d fears around 
On all tliat saw (and who Avould cease to gaze, 
That once had seen ?) m ith haste, parental haste, 
I flew, I siiatch'd her from the rigid north. 
Her native bed, on which bleak Boreas blew, 
And bore her nearer to the sun ; the sun 
(As if the sun could envy) check'd his beam, 
L)cny'd his Avonted succour nor Avith more 
Regi'et beheld her drooping, than the bells 
Of lilies ! Faiz-est lilies not so fair. 

Queen hlies ! and ye painted populace ! 
W\\o dAvell in fields, and lead ambix)sial Ua'cs ; 
[n morn and ev'ning dcAv, your beauties bathe, 
\nd drink the sun ; Avhich gives your cheeks to glOAVj. 
\nd out-blush {mine excepted) ev'iy fan- ; 
iTou gladlier greA\ , ambitious of her hand, 
\\ hich often crop'd your odours, incense meet 
To thought so pure. Ye lovely fugitives ! 

VARIATION. 

" To thought so pnre," Sec. In the early editions, thus ; 

To thougbr so pure ; her floiii'rij state of min'i 
In Joy unfaVn. Ye lovely fugitives 



NIGHT THIRD. 61 

(y'oeval race "with man ! for man you smile ; 
Why not smile at him too ? You shai'e indeed 
His sudden pass ; but not his constant pain. 

So man is made, nought ministers delight. 
But what his glowing passions can engage ; 
And glowing passions, bent on aught below. 
Must, soon or late, v ith anguish turn tlie scale ; 
And anguish, after rapture, how severe ! 
Rapture ! Bold man ! Avho tempts the wrath dinne. 
By plucking fi'uit deny'd to mortal taste, 
"VVhilst /iere, presuming on the rights of heav'n.. 
For transport dost thou call on ev'iy hour, 
LoRExzo ? At thy friend's expence be wise ; 
Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; 
A broken reed, at best ; but, oft, a spear ; 
On its sharp ])oint peace bleeds, and hope expires. 

Turn, hopeless thought ! turn from her : Thought 
repell'd. 
Resenting rallies, and wakes ev'iy woe. 
Snatch'd ere thy prime ! and in thy bridal hour ! 
And when kind fortune, with thy lover, smil'd '. 
And when high-flavour'd thy fresh op'ning joys ! 
And when blind man pronounc'd thy bliss complete ! 
And on a foreign shore ; where sti-angers m ept ! 
Strangers to thee ; and, more surprising still. 
Strangers to kindness, -wept : Their eyes let fall 
Inhuman tears ; strange tears ; that trick'led do^\n 
From marble hearts ! obdurate tenderness ! 
A tenderness that call'd them more severe ; 
In spite of nature's soft persuasion, steel'd ; 
"Wliile nature melted, siipevstition rav'd ; 
That mourn 'd the dead, and this deny'd a gi'ave. 

Their sighs incens'd ; sighs foreign to the will ! 
Their will the Tyger suck'd, outrag'd the storm. 
For Oh ! the curst ungodliness of zeal ! 
While sinful fesh relented, spirit nui'st 
In blind infallibility's embrace. 
The sainted spirit petrify'd the breast ; 
Deny'd tlie charity of dust, to spread 
O'er dust ! a charity their dogs enioy. ' 

Wliat could I do I What succour r What i^esoui-ce 



62 THE COMPLAINT. 

With pious sacrilege a gi'ave I stole ; 

With impious piety that gi'ave I wrone'd ; 

Short in my duty ; coward in my grief! 

More like her murderer, than friend, I crept. 

With soft-suspended step ; and, muffled deep 

In midnight darkness, -whispered my last sigh. 

I whispered -what should echo through their realms : 

Nor writ her name, whose tomb should pierce tbe 

skies. 
Presumptuous fear ! how durst I dread her foes, 
While nature's loudest dictates I obey'd ? 
Pardon necessity, blest sbade ! Of grief 
And indignation rival bursts I pourVl ; 
Half execration mingled with my prayer ; 
Kindled at man, while I his God ador'd ; 
Sore gi'udg'd the savage land her sacred dusf ; 
Stamp 'd the curst soil ; and with humanity 
(Denied Nahcissa) wish'd them all a grave. 

Glows my resentment into guilt f What guilt 
Can equal violations of the dead ? 
The dead, how sacred ! Sacred is the dust 
Of this heav'n-labour'd form, erect, divine ! 
This heav'n-assum'd majestic robe of earth, 
Jfe deign'd to weai", Avho hung the vast expanse 
With azure bright, and cloth'd the sun in gold. 
When ev'ry passion sleeps that can oftend ; 
When strikes us ev'ry motive that can melt ; 
When man can wreak his rancour nncontrojd^df 
That strongest curb on hisult and ill-will ; 
Then, spleen to dust / the dust of innocence ! 
An angel's dust ! — ^This Lucifer transcends ; 
When he contended for the patriarch's bones, 
'Twas not the strife of malice, but of px'ide ; 
The strife of Pontiff" pride, not Pontiff" gall. 

Far less than this is shocking in a race 
Most -wretched, but from streams of mutual love ; 
And uncreated, but for love divine ; 
And, but for love divine, this moment, lost. 
By fate resorb'd, and sunk in endless night. 
Man hard of heait to man ! Of hojTld tilings 
M«st horrid ! '>fcd stupen,d.ouSj highly strange ! 



NIGHT THIRD. 63 

Yet oft his courtesies are smoother wrongs ; 
Piide brandishes the favours he confei'S, 
And contumelious his humanity : 
Wliat then his vengeance ? Hear it not ye stars ! 
And thou, pale moon ! tuni paler at the sound : 
Man is to man the sorest, sm'est ill. 
A previous blast foretels the rising; storai ; 
O'erwhelming tiuT.'ets threaten ere they fall ; 
Volcano's bellow ere they disembogue ; 
Earth trembles ere her yawning jaws devour; 
And smoke betrays the wide consuming fire : 
Ruin from man is most conccal'd when near. 
And sends the dreadful tidings in the blow. 
Is this the flight of fancy ? Would it were ! 
Heav'n*s Sov'reign saves all beings but himself. 
That hideous sight, a naked human heart. 

Fir'd is the muse ? And let the muse be fir'd : 
Who not inflam'd, when what he speaks, he feels. 
And in th^ nerve most tender, in his fnends ? 
Shame to mankind ! Phuander had his foes ; 
He felt the tiiiths I sing, and I in him. 
But he, nor I, feel more ; Past ills, Narctssa ! 
Are sunk in thee, thou recent wound of heail ! 
Which bleeds with other cares, with other pangs ; 
Pangs num'rous, as the num'rous ills that SAvarm'd* 
O'er thy distii\guish'd fate, and, clust'ring tliere 
Thick as the locust on the land of JVile, 
Made death more deadly, and more dark the grave. 
Reflect (if not forgot my touching tale) 
How was each circumstance with aspics arm'd I 
An aspic, each ; and all, an ffi/dra-'woc. 
What strong Herculean virtue could suffice ? 
Or is it virttie to be conquer'd here ? 
This hoary cheek a train of tears bedews ; 
And eaclytear mourns its own lUstinct distress'; 
And each distress distinctly mourn 'd, demands 
Of grief still more, as heighten'd by the whole. 
A gi-ief like this proprietors excludes ; 
Not friends alone such obsequies deplore : 
They make mankind the mourner; carry si^is 
ysu* as the {^XstXfame ean win§ faer way / 



64 THE COMPLAINT. 

And turn the gayest tliought of gayest age, 
Down the vight channel, through the vale of death. 
The vale of death ! that hush'd Cimmerian vale, 
Wlie)'e darkness, brooding o'er unfinish'd fates, 
"With raven wing incumbent, waits the day 
(Dread day !) that interdicts ail future cliange ! 
That subterranean world, that land of ruin I 
Fit walk, LoREjiTZO, for jiroud human thought ! 
T/iere let my thought expatiate ; and explore 
Balsamic truths, and heaUng sentiments. 
Of all most wanted, and most welcome, here. 
For gay Lorenzo's sake, and for thy own, 
IV'Iy soul ! " The fruits of dying friends survey ; 
Expose the vain of life ; weigh life and death ; 
Give death his eulogy ; thy fear subdue ; 
And labour that first palm of noble minds, 
A manly scorn of teiTor from the tomb." 

I'his harvest reap from thy Narcissa's grave. 
As poets feign'd, from Ajax' streaming blood 
Arose, with grief inscrib'd, a mournful flow'r ; 
Let wisdom blossom IVom my moilal wound. 
And first, of dying friends ; what fiiiit from these ? 
It brings us more than triple aid -, an aid 
To chase our thoughtlessness, fear, pride, and gnilt. 
* Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud. 
To damp our braiiiless ai-dours ; and abate ; 
That glare of life, wliich often blinds the wise. 
Our dying friends are pioneei's, to smooth 
Our rugged pass to death ; to break those bars 
Of teri'oi', and abhorrence, nature throws 
Cross our obstructed way ; and thus to make 
Welcome, as safe, our port from ev'ry storni. 
Kach friend by'fufe snatch'd from ns, is a pluuie 
Pluck'd from tlie wing of human vanity, 
Which jtnakes us stoop from our aerial heights. 
And, damp'd with omen of oui' own decease. 
On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd, 

VARIATION. 

Afu V line 22, in one edition, these are founds 
" Rich fruit this tempest in ouv bosom throw?, 
• Few minds will gather in our life serene :*■ 



NIGHT THIRD. 63 

.Tust skim earth's surface ere we break it up,' 
* O'er putrid earth to scratch a little dust, 
And save the world a nuisance. Smitten friends 
Are angels sent on errands full of love ; 
For us they languish, and for ns they die : 
And shall they languish, shall they die in vain ? 
Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hov'ring shades, 
■Which wait the revolution in our heax'ts r 
Shall we disdain their silent, soft address ; 
Their posthumous ad>ice, and pious pray'r ? 
Senseless as herds that graze their hallow'd graves, 
Tread underfoot their agonies and groans ; 
Frustrate their anguish, and destroy their deaths ? 

Lorenzo ! no ; the thought of death indulge ; 
Give it its wholesome empire ! let it reign. 
That kind chastiser of thy soul in joy I 
Its reign will spread thy glorious conquest far. 
And still the tumults of thy ruffled breast ; 
Auspicious JEra. ! Golden days begin ! 
The thought of deatli, shall, like a god, inspire. 
And why not think on death ? Is life the theme 
Of ev'iy thought ? and wish of ev'ry hour ? 
And song of ev'ry joy ? Surprising truth ! 
The beaten spaniel's fondness not so strange. 
To wave the num'rous ills that seize on life 
As their own property, their lawful pi-ey ; 
Ere man has measiu*'d half his weary stage. 
His luxiiries have left him no reserve, 
No maiden relishes, unbroach'd delights ; 
On cold-serv'd repetitions he subsists. 
And in the tasteless present, chews the past ; 
Disgusted chews, and scarce can swallow down, 
liike lavish ancestors, his earlier years 
Have disinherited his future hx)urs, 
WWch starve on oris, and glean their former field. 

Live ever here, Lorenzo !^— Shocking thought ! 
So shocking, they who wish, disown it too ; 
Disown from shame, what they from folly crave. 
Live ever in the womb, nor see the light ! 
For what live ever here i"— AVith lab 'ring step 

•In the early «ditionJ-^* O'er puttidprirff,'' &t» 



&6 THE COMPXAIXT. 

To tread our former footsteps ? Pace the round 
Eternal ? To climb life's worn, hea-vy wheel. 
Which draws up notliing new ? To beat, and beat, 
Tbe beaten track ? To bid each wretched day 
The fonner mock ? To surfeit on the same. 
And yawn our joys ; or thank a misery 
For change, tha' sad ? To see what we have seen r 
Hear, 'till miheard, the same old slabber'd tale ? 
To taste the tasted, and at each return 
Less tasteful ? O'er our palates to decant 
Another vintage ? Strain a flatter year. 
Through loaded vessels, and a laxer tone. ? 
Crazy machines to grind earth's wasted fruits ! 
lU-gi'ound, and worse concocted ! Load, not life ! 
The rational foul kennels of excess ! 
vStill-streamuig thoroughfares of dull debauch ! 
Trembling each gulp, lest death should snatch the 
bowl. 

Such of o\XY fine ones is the wish refin'd ! 
So would they have it : Elegant desire ! 
Why not invite the bellowing stalls, and Avilds ? 
But such examples might their riot awe. 
Through want of virtue, that is, want of thought, 
(Tho' on bright thought they father all their flights,) 
To what are they reduc'd ? To love and hate. 
The same vain world ; to censure and espouse. 
This painted shrew of life, who calls them fool 
Each moment of each day ; to flatter bad 
Thro' dread of worse ? To cling to this rude rock. 
Barren, to them, of good, and sharp with ills. 
And hourly blacken'd with impending storms. 
And infamous for wrecks of human hope— 
Scar'd at the gloomy gvxlph, that yawns beneath. 
Such are their triumphs ! such their pangs of joy ! 

'Tis time, high time, to shift this dismal scene. 
This hugg'dy this hideous state, what art can cure ? 
One only : but that one, what all may reach ; 
VittTtJE — she, wonder-working goddess ! charms 
That rock to bloom ; and tames the painted shrexa £ 
And what will more surpiise, LoREifzo ! gives 
To life's sick, nauseous iteration, change ; 
And stfaiteus nature's circle to a Uue. 



KIGHT THIRD. €7 

Bellev'st thou this, Lorexzo ? Lend an ear, 
A patient ear ; thou'lt blush to disbelieve. 

A languid, leaden iteration reigns. 
And ever must, o'er those, whose joys are jo}'s 
Of sight, smell, taste : The cuckow-seasons sing 
The same dull note to such as nothing pi'ize. 
But what those seasons, from the teeming earth, 
To doating sense indulge. But nobler minds. 
Which relish fruits unripen'd by the svn. 
Make their days various ; various as the dyes 
On the dove's neck, which wanton in his I'ays. 
On minds of dove-like innocence possest. 
On lighten'd minds, that bask in \irtue's beams. 
Nothing hangs tedious, nothing old revolves 
In that, for which they long ; for which they live. 
Their glorious eftbrts, wing d with heav'nly hope. 
Each rising moi'ning sees still higher rise ; 
Each bounteous dawn its novelty presents 
To worth maturing, new strength, lustre, farao ; 
While nature's circle, like a chariot -wheel 
Rolling beiieath their elevated aims. 
Makes their fair prospect fairer ev'iy hour ; 
Advancing vtrtiie, in a line to bliss ; 
Virtue, wliich christian motives best inspire ? 
And hlissy which christian schemes alone ensure ! 

And shall we then, for virtue's sake, commence 
Apostates ? and turn infidels for joy ? 
A truth it is, few doubt, but fewer trust, 
** He sins against this life, who slights the tiextV 
WTiat is this life ? How few their fav'rite know ! 
Fond in the dark, and blind in our embrace. 
By passionately loving life, we make 
Lov'd life unlovely ; hugging her to death. 
We give to time etwnity's regard ; 
And, dreaming, take our passage for our port. 
Life has no value, as an end, but means ; 
An end deplorable ! a means divine ! 
When 'tis our all, 'tis nothing ; worse than nought ; 
A nest of pains : when held as nothing, much : 
Like some fair hum'i-ists, life is most enjoy'd 
When courted least ; most worth, when disesteem'd ; 
Thea 'tis the seat of comfort, rich in peace ; 



68 THE COMPLAINT. 

In prospect richer far ; important ! aw'ful ! . 
Not to be mention'd, but -with shouts of praise \ 
Not to be thouglit on, but vnih tides of joy ! 
The mighty basis of eternal bliss ! 

Wliere now the barren rock P the painted shrew ? 
^Vhere now, Lorenzo ! Life's eternal round ? 
Have I not made my triple promise good ! 
Vain is the world ; but only to the vain. 
To what compare we then this varying scene. 
Whose worth ambiguous rises, and declines ? 
Waxes, and wanes ? (In all propitious, night 
Assists me here :) compare it to the moon ; 
Dark in herself, and indigent ; but rich 
In borrow'' d lustre from a higher sphere. 
When gross guilt interposes, lab'ring earth, 
O'ershadow'd, mourns a deep eclipse of joy ; 
Her joys, at brightest, pallid, to that font 
Of full effulgent glory, whence they flow. 

Nor is that gloiy cUstant : Oh Lokenzo ! 
A good man, and an angel ! these between 
How thin the barrier ? What divides tlieir fate ? 
Perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year ; 
Or, if an age, it is a moment still ; 
A moment, or eternity's forgot. 
Then be, what once they were, who now are gods ; 
Be what Philander was, and claim the skies. 
Starts timid natui'e at the gloomy pass ? 
The soft transition call it, and be cheer'd : 
Such it is often, and Avhy not to thee ? 
To hope the best is pious, brave, and wise ; 
And may itself />roc7/re what '\t presumes. 
Life is much flattered, death is much traduc'd : 
Compare the rivals, and the kinder crowa. 
" Strange competition .'"—True, Loreitzo I 

Strange ! 
So little life can cast into the scale. 

Life makes the soul dependant on the dust ; 
Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres. 
Tlu'o' chinks, styl'd organs, dim life peeps at lighf j 
Death bursts th' involving cloud, and all is day i 
All eye, all eai", the disembody'd pow'r. 
Death has feigu'd evils, nature shall not feej i 



NIGHT THIRD. 69 

JLifty ills substantial, -unsdom cannot shim. 
Is not the mighty mind, that son of heav'n, 
By tyrant life dethron'd, imprison'd, pain'd ? 
By death enlarg'd, ennobled, deify'd ? 
Death but entombs the body ; life the soul. 

" Is death then guiltless ? How he marks his way 
** With dreadful Avaste of what deserves to shine ! 
** Art, genius, fortune, elevated pow'r! 
" With various lustres these light up the world, 
" Which death puts out, and darkens human race." 
I grant, Lorenzo ! this indictment just : 
The sage, peer, potentate, king, conqueror ! 
Death humbles these ; more barb'rous Z(/e the man. 
Life is the triumph of our mould'ring clay ; 
Death, of the spirit infinite, divine ! 
-'Death has no dread, but what frail life imparts ; 
Nor life true joy, but what kind death improves. 
No bliss has life to boast, 'till death can give 
Far greater ; lifers a debtor to the gi-ave. 
Dark lattice ! letting in eternal day. 

LoREXZo! blush nt fondness for a life. 
Which sends celestial souls on eirands vile. 
To cater for the sense ; and serve at boards. 
Where ev'ry ininger of the wilds, i>erhaps 
Each reptile, justly claims oiu* vipper hand. 
Luxurious feast ! a soul, a soul immoital. 
In all the dainties of a brute bemir'd ! 
LoREXzo ! blush at terror for a death, 
Wliich ^ves thee to repose in festive bow'rs, 
Wliere nectars spai'kle, angels ministei". 
And more than angels share, and raise, and crown, 
And eternize, the birth, bloom, bursts of bliss. 
What need I more ? O death, the palm is thine. 

Then welcome, death ! thy di'eaded harbingers, 
,9g-e and disease ; disease, though long my guest. 
That plucks my nerves, those tender strings of life ; 
Which, pluck'd a little more, will toll the bell, 
That calls my few friends to my funeral ; 
Where feeble natui'e drops, perhaps, a tear, 
^Vhile reason and religion, better taught. 
Congratulate the dead, and crown his tomb 
With wreath triumphant. Dgs^Ui is victory ; 



t4 the complaint. 

It binds in chains the raging ills of life ; 

Jjiist and Aiyibition, tovath and avarice^ 

Di-agg'd at his cha^iot-^vheel, applaud his pow'i:. 

Tliat ills corrosive, cares importunate, 

Are not immortal too, O death ! is thine. 

Our day of dissolution !— Name it right; 

'Tis our great pay-day ; 'tis our harvest, rich 

And ripe : What though the sickle, sometimes keen, 

Just scars us as we reap the golden grain ? 

More than thy balm, O Gilead ! heals the wound. 

Birtli's feeble cry, and deatJi's deep dismal groan> 

Are slender tributes low-taxt nature pays 

For mighty gain : The gain of each, a life ! 

But O ! the last, the former so transcends. 

Life dies, compai-'d ! Life lives beyond the grave. 

And feel I, Death ! no joy fi-om thought of thee ? 
Death, the great counsellor, who man inspires 
With e\''ry nobler thought, and fairer deed ! 
Death, the deliverer, who rescues man ! 
Death, the rewarder, who the rescu'd ci-owns ! 
Death, that absolves my birth ! a curse without it ! 
Rich death, that realizes all my cares. 
Toils, virtues, hopes ; without it a chimera ! 
Death, of all pain the period, not of jo}' ; 
Joy's source, and mbject, still subsist unhurt; 
One, in my soul ; and one, in her great sire ; 
Though the four winds Avere Avarring for my dust. 
Yes, and from winds and waves, and central night. 
Though prison'd thei'e, my dust too I reclaim, 
(To dust when drop proud nature's proudt'St spheres) 
And live entire. Death is the crown of life : 
Were death deny'd, poor man Avould live in vain ; 
Were death deny'd, to live Avoidd not be life ; 
Were death deny'd, ev'n fools Avould wish to die. 
Death wounds to cure : We fall ; we rise ; a\ e reign ♦ 
Spring from our fetters ; fasten in the skies ; 
AVhere blooming Kden withers in our sight. 
Death gives us more than was in Riltn lost ; 
This King of Terrors is the Pritice of Peace. 
When shall I die to vanity, pain, death ? 
When sliall I die ?— Wlien shall I live for ever ? 



COMPLAINT. 

NIGHT FOURTH. 

THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 

Containing oiir only Cure for the fear of Deathy 
a7id proper Sentiments of Heart mi that inesti- 
mable Blesmig. 

To the Honoarable Mr. Yorke. 



A. MUCH indebted Muse, O Yorke ! intrudes. 
Amid the smiles of fortune, and of youth. 
Thine ear is patient of a seHous song. 
How deep implanted in the breast of man 
The dread of death ! I sing its sov'reign cure. 

Why start at death ? W liere is he ? Death arriv'd, 
Is past ; not come, or gone ; He's never Iiere. 
Ere hopCy sensation fails; black-bo<ling m?.n 
Receives, not suffers, death's tremendous blow. 
The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave ; 
The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm ; 
These are tlie bugbears of a winter's eve, 
The terrors of the lining, not the dead. 
Imagination's fool, and error's w reteh, 
Man makes a death, which Nature never made ; 
Then on the point of his own fancy falls ; 
Aml/ee^s a thowsaud deatlis, 'vi fearing one. 



72 THE COMPLAINT. 

But were death frightful, Avhat has a^'e to fear ? 
If prudent, age should meet the friendly foe, 
And shelter in lus hospitable gloom. 
I scarce can meet a monument, but holds 
My younger ; ev'i"y date cries — "Come away." 
And what recalls me ? Look the Avorld around, 
And tell me what : The wisest cannot tell. 
Should any born of woman give his thought 
Full range, on just dislike's unbounded field ; 
Of things, the vanity ; of men, the flaws ; 
Flaws in the best ; the many, flaw all o'er ; 
As Leopards y spotted, or, as JEthiops, dark ; 
Vivacious, ill ,• good, dying, immatm*e ; 
THow immature, Nahcissa's marble tells;) 
And at its death bequeathing endless pain ; 
H-is heart, though bold, would sicken at the sight, 
And spend itself in sighs iov future scenes. 

But grant to life (and just it is to grant 
To lucky life) some perquisites of joy ; 
A time there is, when, like a thrice-told tale, 
[And that of no gi'eat moment, or delight,] 
Long-rifled life of sweet can yield no more. 
But from our cojnnient on the comedy. 
Pleasing refections on parts well-sustain'd, 
Or purpos'd emendations where Ave fail'd. 
Or hopes of plaudits fi-om our candid Judge, 
When, on theh exit, souls are bid unrobe, 
Tos% fortune back her tinsel, and her plume. 
And drop this mask of flesh behind the scene. 
With me, that time is come ; my world is dead ; 
A new world rises, and new manners reign : 
Foreign comedians (a spruce band) arrive. 
To push me from the scene, or hiss me there. 
What a pert race starts up ! The strangers gaze. 
And I at them ; my neighbour is unknown ; 
Nor that the worst : Ah me ! the dire eiTectj 
Of loit'ring here, of death defrauded long ; 
Of old so gracious (and let that suffice) 
My very master knows me not.— 

Shall I dare say. Peculiar is the fate ? 
I've been so long remember*d, I'm forgot. 



KIGHT FOURTH. 73 

An object evev pressing, dims the sight. 

And hides behind its ardour to be seen. 

When in his courtiers' ears I pour my plaint, 

They drink it as the nectar of the great ; 

And squeeze my hand, and beg me come to-morrow : 

Refusal ! can'st thou wear a smoother form ? 

indulge me, nor conceive I drop my theme : 
Who cheapens life, abates the /ear of death : 
Twice-told the period spent on stubborn Troi/, 
Court-favour, yet untaken, I besiege ; 
Ambition's ill-judg'd effort to be rich. 
Alas ! Ambition makes my little, less ; 
Embitt'ring the possess'd : "SVhy wish for more ? 
Wishingy of all employments, is the w orst ; 
Philosophy's reverse ; and health's decay ! 
Were I as plump as stall'd theology, 
Wishing would waste me to this shade again. 
Were I as wealthy as a soxith-sea dream 
Wishing is an expedient to be poor. 
Wishing, that constant hectic of a fool ; 
Caught at a court ; purg'd off by purer air. 
And simpler diet ; gifts of rural life ! 

Blest be that Hand Divine, which gently laid 
My heart at rest, beneath tliis humble shed. 
The world's a stately bark, on dang'rous seas. 
With pleasure seen, but boai'ded at our peril : 
Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore, 
I hear the tumult of the distant throng. 
As that of seas remote, or dying storms ; 
And meditate on scenes, more silent still ; 
Pursue my theme, and fight the /<?«?• of deaths 
Here, like a sheplierd gazjng from his hut, 
Touching liis reed, or leaning on Lis staff. 
Eager ambition's fiexy chace I see ; 
I see the cii'cling hunt of noisy men, 
Bnrst law's inclosure, leap the mounds of right. 
Pursuing, and pursu'd, each other's prey ; 
As wolves, for rapine ; as the fox, for wiles ; 
'Till death, tliat mighty hunter, earths them ali, 

AVhy all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? 
What, though we wade in wealth, or soar in f^me,, 
D 



n THE COMPLAINT. 

Earth's liiglR St station ends in, *' Here he lies :" 
And " dust to dust" concludes her noblest song. 
If this song lives, poslerity shkll know- 
One (though in Britain born, Avith courtiers bred) 
Who thouglit e'en gold might come a day too late ; 
Nor on liis subtle death-bed plann'd his scheme 
For future vacancies in church or state ; 
Some avocation deeming it — ^to die ; 
Unbit by rage canine of dying rich ; 
Cuilt's blunder ! and the loudest laugli oF hell. 

O my coevals ! Remnants of yourselves ! 
Poor human ruins, tott'ring o'er the grave ! 
Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees. 
Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling, 
Still more enamour'd of this Avretched .soil ? 
Shall our pale, Avither'd hands, be still stretch'J out^ 
TrembUng, at once, with eagerness and age ? 
With av'iice and convulsions, grasping hard ? 
Grasping at air ! for Avhat has earth beside .? 
IMan Avants but little ; nor that little, long ; 
How soon must he resign his very dust, 
Which frugal Nature lent him for an houi- ! 
Years iiiexperienc'drush on num'rous ills ; 
And soon as man, expert from time, has found 
The keij of life, it opes the gates of death. 
A When in this vale of years I backward look. 
And miss such numbers, numbers too of such. 
Firmer in health, and greener in their iige. 
And stricter on their guai'd, and fitter far 
To play life's subtle game, I scarce believe 
I still survive : And am I fond of life, 
Wlio scai-ce can think it possible I live ? 
AUac by miracle, or, Avhat is next. 
Alive by Mead ! If I am still alive. 
Who long have bury'd Avhat gives life to live, 
Firmness of nerve, and energy of thought, 
^jife's lee is not more shallo-iv, than impure 
\nd vapid; sense and reason shew the door, 
'all for my bier, and point me to the dust. 
•O Thou great Arbiter of life and death ! 
KatVire's iounortal, immaterial Sun ! 



NIGHT FOURTH. 75 

Wliose all proline beam late call'd me forth 
From darkness, teeming darkness, •where I lay 
The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath 
The dust I tread on, high in bear my brow. 
To drink the spirit of the golden day, 
And triumph in existence ; and cmildst know 
No motive, but my bliss ; and hast ordain'd 
A I'ise in blessing ! v. ith the Pairiarch's joy. 
Thy call I follow to the land i/nknoxvn ; ■. 
I trust in Thee, and know in a\ horn I trust; 
Or life, or death, is equal; ntitiior -woiglis: 
All weight in thi»— O let me li\e to Thee ! 



re H terrors, thus, may be repi'est ; 
a death ; guilt points the tyrant's 



Still frowns grim 

spear. 
And whence all human giiilt r From death forgot. 
Ah me ! too long I set at nought the swarm 
Of friendly warnings, whiL-h around me flew ; 
And smil'd, unsraitten : Small my causi> to smile ! 
DeatKs admonitions, like shafts upward shot. 
More dreadful by delay : the lorigt-r ere 
They strike our hearts, the de< p^r is their wound. 
O think how deep, J^obkxxo ! here it stings : 
Who can appease its anguish ? Mow it burns ! 
What hand the barb'd, envenom'd, thought can dra-i^ 
What healing hand can pour the balm of peace. 
And turn my siglit undaunted on the tomb r 

With joy — with gi'ief, that hpolivg hand I see ; 
Ah ! too conspicuous ! It is fi vM on high. 
On high ? — What means my frenzy ? I blaspheme ; 
Alas ! iiow lo'ia ! how far beneath the skies ! 
The skies it form'd ; and now it bleeds for me — 
But bleeds the balm I want — yet still it bleeds. 
Draw the dire steel — Ah no ! — the dreadful blessiii 
What heai't or can sustain, or dares forego ? 
There hangs all human hope ; th.at nail supports 
The falling imiverse : That gone, we drop ! 
Horror receives us, and the dismal Avish 
Creation had been smother'd in her birth — 
Darkness his curtain, and his bed the dust ; 
When stars and sun are du-jt beneath his tlirorjc- ' 



76 THE COMPLAINT, 

In heav'n itself can such indulgence dwell ? 

O what a gi'oan was there ! a groan not his. 

He seiz'd our dreadful right ; the load sustain'd ; 

And heav'd the mountain from a guilty world. 

A thousand worlds, sa bought, were bought toodej^r- 

Sensations new in angels' bosoms rise ; 

Suspend their song, and make a pause in bliss. 

O for their song to reach my lofty theme ! 
Inspire me, mght ! a\ ith all thy tuneful spheres ! 
[Much rather thou ! yiha dost these spheres in' 

spire !]* 
Whilst I with seraphs share seraphic themes. 
And shew to men the dignity of Man ; 
I^est I blaspheme my subject with my song. 
Shall Pagan pages glow celestial flame. 
And Christian, languish ? On our hearts, not h^ads, 
Falls the foul infamy : My heart ! awake. 
Wliat can awake thee, unawak'd by this, 
" Expended Deity on human weal r" 
Feel the great truths, which burst the tenfold night 
Of Heathen error, with a golden flood 
Of endless day : To feel, is to be fir'd ; 
And to believe, Lorenzo ! is to feel. 

Thou most indulgent, most tremendous Pow'r • 
Still more tremendous for thy Avond'rous love ! 
That arms, with awe more awful, thy commands ; 
And foul transgression dips in sev'nfold night ; 
How our hearts tremble at thy love immense ! 
In love immense, inviolably just. 
Thou, rather than thy justice should be stain'd. 
Didst stain the cross ; and, work of wonders far 
The greatest ! that thy deai-est far might bleed.' 

Bold thought ! shall I dare speak it, or repress ? 
Should jNIan more execrate, or boast the guilt 
Which rous'd such vengeance ? which such love in- 

flam'd ? 
O'er guilt (how mountainous !) with out-stretch'd 
arms. 



• This line is fourel in oc»y cue edition that has been 
exatniucd' 



"N'ICHT FOURTH. 7"r 

Stern Justice and soft-smiling love, embrace. 

Supporting, in full majesty, thy throne. 

When seemM its majesty to need support, 

Or thatf or mauy inevitably lost. 

What, but the- fatho?nless of thought divine, 

Couldiabour such expedient from despair, 

And rescue both ? Both rescue ! Both exalt ! 

O how are both exalted by the deed ! 

The wond'rous deed ! or shall I call it more ? 

A wonder in Omnipotence itself ! 

A mystery, no less to gods than men ! 

Not thus, our Infidels th' Eternal draw, 
A God all o'er consummate, absolute, 
Full-orb'd, in his whole round of rays complete : 
Tliey set at odds Heav'n's jari'ing attributed ; 
And, with one excellence, another Avound ; 
Maim Heav'n's perfection, break its equal beams, 
Bid mercy triumph ovei"^ — God himself, 
Undeify'd by their opprobrious praise : 
A God cdl mercy, is a God unjust. 

Ye brainless wits ! ye baptis'd mfidels ! 
Ye worse for mending ! wash'd to fouler stains ! 
The ransom was paid down ! the fund of Heav'n, 
Heav'n's inexhaustible exhausted fund. 
Amazing, and amaz'd, pour'd forth the price. 
All price beyond : Though curious to compute. 
Archangels fail'd to cast the mighty sum : 
Its value vast ungi'asp'd by minds create. 
For ever hides, and glows, in the Supreme. 

And was the ransom paid ? It was : and paid 
(What can exalt the bounty more ?) for you. 
The sun beheld it — No, the shocking scene 
Drove back his chai-iot : Midnight veil'd his face ; 
Not such as this ; not such as nature makes ; 
A midnight. Nature shudder'd to behold ; 
A midmght new ! a dread eclipse (without 
Opposing spheres) from her Creator's fi"Own ! 
Snn ! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain .-' Or start 
At that enormous load of human guilt, 
Which bow'd his blessed head; o'erwhebaM his 
cross ; 



78 THE COMPLAINT. 

IMade gi'oan the centre ; burst earth's marble womb, 
With panes, strange pangs ! deliver'd of her dead ? 
Hell howl d ; and Heav'n that hour let fall a tear ; 
Heav'a wept, that men might smile ! Heav'n bled, 

tliat man 
Might never die ! — ■ 

And is devotion virtue P 'Tis compelled : 
What heart of stone, but glows at thoughts like 

these P 
Such contemplations mount us ; and should mount 
The mind still high'r ; nor ever glance on man, 
Unraptur'd, uninflam'd. — Where roll my thoughts 
To rest From wonders ? Other v. onders rise ! 
And strike ^\ here'er they roll : My soul is caught : 
Heav'n 's sov 'reign blessings, clust'ring from the 

cross, 
Rush on her, in a throng, and close her round. 
The pris'ner of amaze ! — \n his blest life, 
I see the path, and, in his death, the price. 
And in his great ascent, the proof supreme 
Of immortality. — And (lid he rise ? 
Hear, O ye nations ! liear it, O ye dead ! 
He rose !* He rose ! He burst the ]>ars of death. 
Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates ! 
And give the King of Glory to come in. 
Who is tbe King of Giory? He who left 
His Throne of Glory, for the pang of death : 
Lift u]) your heads, ye everlasting gates ! 
And give tbe King of Glory to come in. 
Who is the King of Glory i" He who sIcav 
The rav'nous fo.-, tliat gorg'vl all human race ! 
The King of Glory, He, whose glory bll'd 
Heav'n with amazement at his love to man; 
And with divine complacency beheld 
I^ow^rs most ilbamin'd, wilder'd in the theme. 

Tlie theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain ? 
Oh the burst gates ! crush'd sting ! demolish'd 

Throne ! 
T,ast gasp ! of vannnisli'd death, shout Earth and 

IToav'n ' 



NIGHT FOURTH. 79 

This mm of good to man .• Whose nature, then, 
Took wing, and mounted Avith Kim from the tomb \ 
Then, then I rose ; then first humamtti 
Triumphant past the ciystal i)CHts of light, 
(Stupendous guest !) and seiz'd eternal youth, 
Seiz'd"^in o???' name. E'er since, 'tis blasphemous 
To call man moi-tal. Man's morU'iity 
Was, then, transferr'd to death ; and Heav'u's du- 
ration 
Unaliejiahly sejil'd to this frail fmme, 
This child of dust. — Man, all immorta( ! hail ; 
Hail, Heav'n ! all-lavish of strange gifts to mail! 
Thine all the glory ; man's the boundless bliss. 

^^^lere am I rapt by this triun\phant theme. 
On Christian joy's exulting wing ? above 
Th' Ionian mount ! — Alas, small cause for joy \ 
What if to pain immortal ? If extent 
Of being, to preclude a close of woe ? 
Where ,^ then, my boast of immortality ? 
I boast it still, though cover'd o'er av ith guilt ; 
Fov guiio, not innocence, his life he pour'd '. 
'Tis guilt alone can jastify his death ; 
Nor that, unless his death can justify 
Relenting guilt in lleav'n's indulgent SJglit. 
If, sick of folly, I relent ; he writes 
My name in Heav'n, with that inverted spear 
(A. spear deep-dipt in blood !) which pierc'd his side. 
And open'd there a font for all mankind. 
Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink, and live : 
T/iJs, only this, subdues the. /ear of death. 

And what is ihis ? — Survey the wond'rous cure ; 
And at each step, let higher wonder rise ! 
" Pardon for infinite offence ! and pai'don 
Through means, that speak its value infinite \ 
A pardon bought with blooil ! with blood divine ! 
With blood di\ine of him, I made my foe ! 
Persisted to provoke ! though \\ oo'd and aw'd. 
Blest and chastis'd, a flagrant rebel still ! 
A rebel, 'midst the thunders of liis throne ! 
Nor I alone ! a rebel universe ! 
My specie-3 up in arms I not one exempt ! 



SD THE CON^IPLAINT. 

Yet for the foulest of the foul, he dies ; 
Most joy'd, fox' the redeem'd from deepest guilt ! 
As if our race -were held of highest rank ; 
And godhead dearer, as more kind to man !" 

Bound, ev'ry heart ! and ev'ry bosom, burn ! 
Oh what a scale of mu'acles is here ! 
Its lowest round, high planted in the skies ; 
its tow'ring summit lost beyond the thought 
Of man or angel ! Oh that 1 could climb 
The wonderful ascent with equal praise ! 
Praise / flow for ever, (if astonishment 
AVill give thee leave) my praise ! for ever flow ; 
Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high Heav'n 
More fragi'ant, than Arabia sacrific'd, 
And all her spicy mountains in a flame. 

So deal-, so due to Heav'n, shall praise descend. 
With her soft plume (from phmsive angel's wing 
First pluck'd by man) to tickle mortal ears. 
Thus diving in the pockets of the great ? 
Is praise the perquisite of ev'ry paw, 
Tho' black as hell, that gi-apples well for gold ? 
Oh love of gold ! thou meanest of amours ! 
Shall praise her odours Avaste on Yirtce's dead ! 
Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt, 
Earn dirty bread by washing ,Mthiops fair. 
Removing filth, or sinking it from sight, 
A scavenger in scenes, Avhere vacant posts. 
Like gibbets yet untenanted, expect 
Theu- futui-e ornaments ? From courts and throned. 
Return, apostate praise ! thou vagabond ! 
Thou prostitute ! to thy first love return. 
Thy first, thy greatest, once unrival'd theme. 

There flow redundant ; like meander flow. 
Back to thy fountain ; to that parent pow'r, 
VVJio gives the tongue to sound, the thought to soar, 
The soul to he. Men homage pay to men. 
Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow 
n mutual aAve profound, of clay to clay, 
)f guilt to guilt ; and turn their backs on thee, 
?refl? Sire ! whom Thrones celestial ceaseless sing 5 
To prostrate angelsj an amazing scene ! 



NIGHT FOURTH. 81 

Oh the pi'esumption of man's awe for man ! 
INIan's author ! end! restorer! law and judge! 
'i'hine, all ; day thine, and thine this gloom oiyiighty 
With all her wealth, ^^ ith all her i-adiant worlds ; 
What, night eternal, but a frown from thee ? 
AVhat, 4leav'n's meridian glory, but tliy smile I 
A nd sliall not praise be thine ? Not human praise ? 
AV'hilc Heav'n's high host on hallelnjahs live ? 

O may I breathe no longer, than I breathe 
]My soul in praise to him, who gave my soul. 
And all her infinite of prospect fair, 
(^ut thro' the shades of hell, great love ! by Thee, 
Oh most adorable ! most unatlor'd ! 
Where shall that praise begin, which ne'er should 

end? 
Where'er I tarn, what claim on all applause ! 
How is nighfs sable mantle labour'd o'er. 
Mow richly wrought with attributes divine ! 
AVhat -id'sdom shines ! what love ! this midnigh' 

pomp. 
This gorgeous areli, with golden worlds iulay'd '. 
Bnilt with divine ambition ! nought to thee ; 
]''or others tliis profusion: Thou, apart. 
Above ! Beyond ! O tell me, mighty mind ! 
^V''here art thou ? Shall I dive into the ikeli ? 
Call to the sun^ or ask the roaring icimhy 
For their Creator? Shall I quesliou loud 
Tlie thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells ? 
Or holds the furious storm.?, in stniiten'd I'ciiiS, 
AtkI bids fierce whirhvinds wheel liis ra])id car ? 

What mean these questions r — nVembling, I 1j 
tract ; 
My prostrate soul adores the present God. 
Praise I a distant Deity P He tunes 
My voice (if tun'd ;) the nerve that Avrites sustains ; 
Wrap'd in his being, I resound his praise : 
Hut though past all diffused, witiiout a sliore, 
lUs essence; local is his throne (as meet) 
To gather the disperst (as standards call 
The listed from afar ;) to fix a point, 
A central point, collective of his sous. 



82 THE COMPLAINT. 

Since ^/inite ev'ry nature, but liis own. 

Tlie nameless He, Avhose nod is nature^ s birtli ; 
And natiire^s shield, the shadow of his hand ; 
Hei' dissolution, his suspended sinile ! 
The ^'cat First-Last .' paAdlion'd high he sits 
In darkness, from excessive splendovir, home. 
By gods unseen, unless thro' lustre lost. 
His glory, to created gloi-y, bright. 
As that to central horrors ; He looks down 
On all that soars ; and spans immensity. 

Tho' night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view,. 
Boundless creation ! what art thou .'' A beam, 
A mere effluvium of his Majesty. 
.'Vnd shall an atom of this atonv-world 
Mutter, in dust and sin, the theme of Hcav'n .'' 
Down to the centre should I send my thought. 
Through beds of glitt'ring ore, and glowing gems, 
Their beggar'd blaze wants lustre for my lay ; 
Goes out in darkness : If, on tow'ring wing, 
I send it through the boundless vault of stars, 
(The stars, though rich, what dross their gold to 

Thee, 
Great, good, wise, wonderful, eternal King !) 
If to those cojisciojis stars thy throne around, 
IVaise ever-pouring, and imbibing bliss ; 
And ask their strain ; they want it, jnore they want. 
Poor their abundance, humble their sublime, 

• Languid their energj', their ardour cold, 

i Indebted still, their highest rapture burns; 

■ Short of its mark, defective, though divine. 

; Still more— 'This theme is Man's and Man's alone ; 

'Their vast appointments reach it not : They see 
On erath a bounty not indulg'<l on high ; 

jAnd doivnvjard look for Heav'n's supei-ior praise ! 

(First-born of ether ! high in fields of light ! 

iView Man, to see the glory of your God ! 

iGould angels envy, they had envy'd here ; 
And some did emy ; and the rest, though gods, 

■Yet still gods vnredaem'd (there triumphs Man^ 

ITempted to weigh the dust agtiinst the skies) 

They less wonld feel, tho'. more adorn my theme. 

'^'Hey ^unr; ercation, (for in that they shar'd ;) 



i«fIGHT FOURTH. 83 

How rose in melody, the child of love ! 
CreatiorCs great superior, Man ! is thine ; 
Thine is reikmptiori ; they just gave the key ; 
'Tie tWne to raise, and eternize, the song ; 
Tliough liuman, yet divine ; for should not this 
Raise Man o'er Man, and kindle seraphs /jer<; ? 
Redemption ! 'twas Creation more sublime ; 
Redemption ! 'twas the labour of the skies ; 
Far more than labour^ — It was death in Hea^''n. 
A trutli so strange ! 'twere bold to think it true ; 
If not far bolder still, to disbelieve. 

Here pause, and ponder : Was there death in 

Heav'n ? 
What then on earth ? On earth, vhich struck the 

blow ? 
Who struck it ? Who ? — O how is ]Man enlarg'd. 
Seen thro' this medium ! how the pigmy tow'rs '. 
How counterpois'd his origin from dust ! 
How covmterpois'd, to dust his sad return ! 
How voided his vast distance from the skies ! 
How near he presses on the seraph's wing ! 
Which is the seraph ? Which the born of clay ? 
How this demonstrates, thro' tlie tliickest cloud 
Of guilt, and clay condens'd, the .Son of Heav'n ! 
The double Son ; the made, and the re-made ! 
And shall Heaven's double property be lost .■' 
Man's double madness only can destroy ; 
To Man the bleeding cross has promis'd all ; 
Tlie bleeding cross lias sworn eternal grace ; 
Who gave his life, what grace shall he deny ? 
O ye ! who, from this Rock of ages, leap. 
Apostates, plunging headlong in the deep ! 
What cordial joy, v/hat consolation strong, 
Whatever winds ai'ise, or billows roll. 
Our interest in the Master of the storm ? 
Cling there, and in wreck'd Nature's ruins sinile ; 
While vile apostates tremble in a calm. 

Man ! Know thyself. All wisdom centres there !. 
To none, Man seems ignoble, but to Man ; 
Angels that grandeui*, men o'erlook, admire : 
How long shall human nature be their book, 
Degen'rate mortal ! and unread by thee ? 



S4 THE COMPLAINT. 

The beam dim reason sheds, sliews wonders there ; 
What liigh contents ! lUustrious faculties ! 
But the grand comment, which displays at full 
Our human height, scarce sever'd from Divine, 
By Heav'n compos'd, was publisli'd on the cross. 

Who looks on that, and sees not in himself 
An awful stranger, a tex-restrial god ? 
A glorious partner with the Deity 
In that high attribute, immortal life ? 
If a' (jod bleeds, he bleeds not for a worm : 
1 gaze, and, as I gaze, my mounting soul 
Catches strange fire, eternity ! at thee ; 
And drops the world—or rather, more enjoys : 
How chang'd the face of nature ! how improv'd ! 
What secm'd a chaos, shines a glorious world, 
Or, what a world, an Eden ; heighteu'd all ! 
It is another scene ! another self! 
And still another, as time rolls along ; 
And that a se^f far more illustrious still. 
Beyond long ages yet roll'd up in shades 
Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray. 
What evolutions of surprising fate ! 
How nature opens, and receives my soul 
In boundles walks of raptur'd thought ! A\Tiere gods 
Encountei", and embrace me ! What new births 
Of strange adventure, foreign to the sun, 
AVhere what now channs, perhaps, wliate'er exists. 
Old time.) and fair creation, are foi-got ! 

Is this extravagant ? Of Man we form 
Extravagant conception, to bejusL: 
Conception uncontin'd, wants Mings to reach him 
Beyond its reach, the God-head only, more. 
He, the great Father ! kindled at one flame 
The ^A orld of rationals ; one spirit pour'd 
From spirit's awful fountain ; pour'd himself 
Through all their souls ; but not in equal stream. 
Profuse, or frugal, of the inspiring God, 
As his wise plan demanded ; and when past 
Their various trials, in their various spheres, 
If Oi' y continue rational, as made. 



NIGHT FOURTH. 85 

Resorbs them all into himself again ; 

His throne their centre, and his smile their crown. 

Why doubt we, then, the glorious truth to sing-, 
Tho' )^et unsung; as deem'd, perhaps, too bold ? 
Angels are men of a supei-ior kind ; 
Angels are men in lighter habit clad. 
High o'er celestial mountains -vving'd in flight ; 
And men are angels loaded for an hour, 
"WHio wade this miiy vale, and climb -with pain, 
And slipp'rv step, the bottom of the steep. 
Angels their failings, mortals have their praise ; 
While here, of corps ethereal, such enroU'd, 
And summon'd to the glorious staiidard noon, 
Which flames eternal crimson through the skies. 
Nor are our brothers thoughtless of their kin. 
Yet absent; but not absent froni their love. 
Michael has fought our battles ; Raphael simg 
Our triumphs; Gabriel on our errands flown, 
Sent by the Sov'nEiGjf : and are these, O man ! 
Thy friends, thy warm allies ? And thou (shame 

burn 
The cheek to cinder!) Rival to the brute? 

Religion 's all. Descending from the skies 
To wretched man, the goddess in her left 
Holds out this world, and in her right, the next ; 
Religio7i ! the sole voucher Man is Man ; 
Supporter sole of Man above himself; 
E\''n in this night of frailty, change, and death, 
She gives the soul, a soul that acts a god. 
Religion ! Pi'ovidence ! and after-state ! 
Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock ; 
This can support us ; all is sea besides ; 
Sinks under us, bestorms, and then devours. 
His hand tlie good mati fastens on the shiea^ 
xVnd liids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl. 

As when a wretch, from Ihick, polluted air. 
Darkness and stench, and suftbcatiug damps. 
And dungeon-horrors, by kind fate discharg'd. 
Climbs some fair eminence, where ether puie 
Surrounds him, and Elysian prospects rise, 
His heart exults, his spirits cast their load , 



86 THE COMPLAINT. 

As if new-boi-n, he triumphs in the change ! 
So joys the soul, when from ingloi'ious aims. 
And sordid sweets, from feculence and frotli 
Of ties terrestrial, set at large, she mounts 
To Reason^s region, her own element. 
Breathes hopes immortal, and affects the skies. 
Religion ! thou the soul of happiness ; 
And, groaning Calvary^ of thee ! There sliine 
The noblest truths ; there strongest motives sting ; 
There sacred violence assaults the soul ; 
There, nothing but compulsion is forborne. 
Can love allure us r or can terror awe ? 
He Aveeps ! — the fulling drop puts out the sun ; 
He sighs ! — 'the sigh earth's deep foundation shakes. 
If in his love so terrible, what then 
His wrath inflam'd ? his tenderness on fire ; 
Like soft, smooth oil, out blazing other fires ? 
(Jan pray'i", can praise avert it ?■ — ^Thou, my all .' 
INIy theme : my inspiration ! and my crown ! 
My strength in age ! my rise in low estate ! 
]My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth !>— my world ! 
My light in darkness ! and my life in death ! 
My boast through time ! Bliss thi'ough eternity ! 
Eternity ! too short to speak thy praise ! 
Or fathom thy profound of love to man ; 
To man of men the meanest, ev'n to me ! 
My sacrifice ! my God !■ — what tilings are these ! 
What then art thou ? by what name shall I call 
thee ? 
KneAv I the name devout archangels use, 
Devout archangels should the name enjoy. 
By me unrival'd ; thousands more sublime. 
None half so dear, as that, which, though unspoke, 
I Still glows at heart : O how Omnipotence 
'Is lost in love ! thou great Philaxthropist ! 
,Father of angels ! but the friend of Man ! 
ILike Jacob, fondest of the younger bom ! 
Thou, who didst save him, snatch the smoking brand 
From out the flames, and quench it in thy blood ! 
'.How art thou pleas'd by bounty to distress i 
ijo ir^ake us grotya beneath our gratitude. 



NIGHT FOURTH. 87 

Too big for birth ! to favour, and confound ; 
To challenge, and to distance all return '. 
Of lavish love stupendous heights to so^. 
And leave praise panting in the distant vale ! 
Thy right too great, defrauds thee of thy due ; 
And sacrilegious our subliniest song. 
Rut since the naked -loill obtains thy smile, 
Beneath this monument of praise unpaidf 
And future life symphonious to my strain, 
(That noblest hymn to Heav'n !) forever lie 
Entomb'd my fear of death ! and ev'ry fear, 
The dread of ev'ry evil, but thy frown. 

Whom see I yonder, so demurely smile ? 
Laughter a labour, and might break their rest. 
Ye quietists, in homage to tlie skies ! 
Serene ! of soft address ! who mildly make 
An unobtrusive tender of your hearts, 
Abhorring«Vi(»l(Mico ! who /ta^findeed ; 
But, for the blessing, tvrestle not with Heav'n ' 
Think you my song too turbulent ? too warm ? 
Arc passions, then, the Pagans of the soul .■' 
lieason alone baptiz'd ? alone ordaiii'd 
To touch things sacred ? Oh for warmer still ! 
Guilt chills my zeal, and age benumbs }ny pow'rs ; 
Oh for an humbler heart, and prouder song ! 
Thou, my much uijur'd theme ! with that soft eye 
Which melted o'er doom'd Salem, deigii to look 
Compassion to the coldness of my breast ; 
And pardon to the winter in my strain. 
Oh, ye cold-heai'ted, frozen formalists ! 
On such a theme, 'tis impious to be calm ; 
Passion is reason, transport temper, hei^e. 
Shall Heav'n which gave us ardour, and has shewn. 
Her own for Man so strongly, not disdain 
What smooth emollients in theologj-. 
Recumbent virtue's downy doctors preachy 
That pi'ose of piety, a lukewarm praise ? 
Rise otlours sweet from incense tininflamd? 
Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout ; 
But when it glows, its heat is struck to Heav'n ; 
I'o human hearts her golden harps are strung ; 



88 THE COMPLAINT. 

High Heav'n's Orchestra ehants ^men to man. 

Hear I, or dream I hear, their distant strain, 
Sweet to the soul, and tasting strong of Heav'n, 
Soft-wafted on celestial Pity's plume, 
Through the vast spaces of the universe, 
To dieer me in tliis melancholy gloom ? 
Oh when will death (now stingless,) like a friend. 
Admit me of their choir ? Oh when will death 
This mould'ring, old, partition-Mall tlirow down ! 
Give beings, one in nature, one abotlc ? 
Oh death divine ! that giv'st us to the skies ! 
iivG^it future ! glorious patron of \\\^ past. 
And present ! Avhen shall I thy shrine adore r 
From Nature's continent^ immensely wide, 
(mmensely blest, this little isle of life^ 
Tliis dark, incarcerating colony. 
Divides iis. Happy day ! that breaks onr chain ; 
That manumits ; that calls from exile honft* ; 
That leads to Nature's gi'eat metropolis. 
And re-admits us, through the gnardian hand 
Of elder brothei-s, to our Father's throne ; 
Who hears om- advocate, and, through liis wound'; 
Beholding man, allow s that tender name. 
"Tis this makes Christian Triumph a command : 
'Tis this makes joy a duty to the wise ; 
'Tis impious, in a good man, to be sad. 

Seest thou, Lorenzo ! where hangs all our hope : 
Touch'd by the cross, we live, or ?no7^e than die ; 
That t02ich which touch'd not angels ; more divine 
Than that, which touch'd confusion into form. 
And darkness into glory ; partial touch ! 
InefTably pre-eminent regard ! 
Sacred to man, and sov'reign througli the v.liole 
Long golden chain of miracles, which hangs 
From Heav'n through all duration, and suppoils 
In one illustrious and amazing plan. 
Thy welfare, J\'atv.re .' and thy God's renown ; 
That touch, with charm celestial, heals the soul 
Dlseai;'d, drives pain from guilt, lights life in death, 
i\u-ns earth to Heav'n, to bgav'iily thrones trans- 
forms 



KIGHT FOURTH. 80 

The ghastly ruins of the mould'ring tomb ! 

IDost ask" me when ? when he who dy'd retums ; 
Retmrfs, how chang'd ! Where then the man of 

woe? 
In glory's terrors all the Godhead burns ; 
And all his courts, exhausted by the tide 
Of deities triumphant in his train. 
Leave a stupendous solitude in Heav'n ; , 
Replenish'd soon, replenish'd with increase 
Of pomp, and multitude ; a radiant band 
Of angels new ; of angels from the toinb. 

I* this by fancy thrown remote ? and rise 
Dark doubts between the promise and event ? 
I send thee not to volumes for thy cure ; 
Read Nature ! Nature is a friend to truth ; 
Nature is Christian ; preaches to mankind ; 
And bids dead matter aid us in our creed. 
Hast thou ne'er seen the comet's flaming flight .'' 
Th' illustrious stranger passing, ten'or sheds 
On gazing nations, from his fiery train 
Of length enormous, takes his ample round 
Thro' depths of ether ; coasts unnumber'd worlds. 
Of more than solar glory ; doubles wide 
Heav'n's mighty cape, and then revisits earth. 
From the long travel of a thousand years. 
Thus, at the destin'd iJeriod, shall return 
He, once on eaith, who bids the comet blaze : 
And, with him, all our triumph o'er the tomb. 

j\/'ature is dumb on this important point ; 
Or hope precarious in low whisper breathes ; 
Faith speaks aloud, distinct ; ev'n Adilers hear. 
But turn, and dart into the dark again. 
Faith builds a bridge across the gulph of death. 
To break the shock, blind JVature cannot shun. 
And lands thought smoothly on the fartlier shore. 
Death's teri'or, is the mountain faith removes ; 
That mountain -barrier between man and peace. 
'Tis faith disarms destruction ; and absolves 
From ev'ry clam'rous charge, the guiltless tomb. 
Why disbelieve ? Lorexzo ; — " Reason bids, 
« AU-i^icred Beawn."— HoW hei' sacred stiU-; 



90 THE COMPLAINT. 

Nor shalt thou want a rival in tliy fiame : 
AU-saercd J?d«so7i ; source, and soul, of all 
Demanding praise, on eailh, or eaith above ! 
My heart is thine : Deep in its inmost folds, 
Jjive thou Avith life ; live dearer of the two. 
AVear I the blessed cross, by fortune stainp'd 
On passive Nature, before thought was born * 
My birth's blind bigot ! fir'd with local zeal ! 
No ; Reason re-baptiz'd me when adult ; 
Weigh'd true, and false, in her impartial scale ; 
My heart became the convert of my head ; 
And made that choice, which once was but ray fate, 
*' On argument alone my faith is buiU :" 
Reason pursu'd is Faith ,- and unpursu'd 
Where proof invites, 'tis reason, then, no more : 
And such our proof, that, or our Faith is right y 
Or Reason lies, and l£ea\^n design'd it ivi'07ifi- : 
Absolve we this ? What, then, is blasphemy ? 

Fond as M'e are, and justly fond of Faith", 
Reason, we gi'ant, demands our first regard ; 
The mother honour'd, as the daugliter dear. 
Reason the root ; fair Faith is but the flow'r ; 
The fading flow'r shall die ; but Reason lives 
Immortal as her Father in the skies. 
When Faith is virtue, Reason makes it so. 
W'rong not the Christian; think not Reason voun , 
'Tis Reason our great Master holds so dear"; 
'Tis Reason's injur'd rights his wrath resents ; 
'Tis Reason^s voice obey'd, his glories crown ; 
To give lost Reason life, he pour'd his own ; 
Believe, and shew the reason of a man ; 
Believe, and taste the pleasure of a god ; 
Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb. 
Through Reasoti's wounds alone thy Faith can dn . 
Which dying, tenfold terror gives to death. 
And dips in venom his twice-mortal sting. 

Learn lience what honours, what loud pdsans dut 
To those, who push our antidote aside ; 
Those boasted friends to Reason, and to JiTan, 
Whose fatal love stabs ev'ry joy, and leaves 
Death's terror heighten' d,, gnawing on his kcarti. 



NIGHT FOURTH. 91 

These pompous sons of Reason idolized 

And vility'd at once ; of Reason dead. 

Then deify'd, as nionarchs were of old ; 

What cSnduct plants prond laurels on their brow ? 

While love of truth through all their camp resoundsj 

They draw pride's curtain o'er tlie noon-tide ray, 

Spike np their inch of Reason, on the xioint 

Of philosophic wit, calPd argiunent ; 

And then, exulting, in their taper, ciy, 

*' Behold the Sun ;" and, Tndian-Wke, adore. 

Talk they of morals ? O tliou bleeding Love ! 
Thou Maker of 7?ew morals to mankind ! 
The grand morality, is love of thee. 
As wise as Socrvtks, if such they were, 
(Nor will they 'bate of that sublime renown ;) 
As 7c<ise as Socrates, might justly stand 
The definition of a n)odern fool. 

A cuniSTiAy, is the highest style of man. 
And is there, who the blessed cross wipes oii'. 
As a foul blot, fi-om his dishonour'd brow ? 
If angels tremble, 'tis at such a sight : 
The wretch they quit, desponding of their charge. 
More struck with gi'ief or wonder, \\ho can tell ! 

Ye sold to sense ! ye citizens of earth ! 
(For such alone the Christian banner fly;) 
Know ye how Avise your choice, how gi'eat your gaiu? 
Behold the picture of earth's happiest man : 
" He calls his Avish, it comes ; he sends it back, 
*' And says he call'd another ; that arrives, 
*' Meets the same welcome ; yet he still calls on ; 
" 'Till One calls him, v ho varies not his call, 
** Bat holds him fast, in chains of darkness bound, 
** 'Till Natui'c dies, and judgment sets him free ; 
** A freedom far less welcome than his chain." 

But grant m.an happy ; gi'ant him happy long ; 
Add to life's highest prize, her latest hour ; 
That hour, so late, is nimble in approach, 
That, like a post, comes on in full career : 
How swift the shuttle flics, that weaves thy shroud ! 
Where is the fable of thy former years ? 
TliroM n doA\ n the gulph of time ; as far from the^ 



92 THE COMPLAINT. 

As they had ne'er been thine ; the d?y in hanfi!. 

Like a bu'd struggling to get loose, is going ; 

Scai'ce noto possess'd, so suddenly 'tis gone ; 

And each swift moment fled, is death advanc'd 

By strides as swift : Eternity is all ; 

And whose eternity ? AVlio triumphs there ? 

Bathing for ever in the font of bliss ! 

For ever basking in the Deity ! 

LoKEjf zo ! W'ho : — Thy conscience shall reply, 

O give it leave to speak ; 'twill speak ere long^ 

Thy leave unask'd : Lorenzo ! hear it now. 

While useful its advice, its accent mild. 

By the great edict, the Divine decree. 

Truth is deposited Avith man's last hoiir ,- 

An honest hour, and faithful to her trust ; 

Truth, eldest daughter of the Deity ; 

Trjith of his council, wlien he made the worlds ; 

Nor less, when he shall judge the worlds he made ; 

Though silent long, and sleeping ne'er so sound, 

Smother'd with errors, and opprest with toys. 

That Heav'n-commission'd hour no sooner calls, 

But from her cavern in the soul's abyssj^ 

Like him they fable under x^tna whelm'd, 

The goddess bursts in thunder, and in flame ; 

Loudly convinces, and severely pains. 

Dark Dcemoiu I discharge, and Jiydra-stmgs ; 

The keen vibration of bright t}^itf^-~is Hell : 

Just definition ! though by schools untaught. 

Ye deaf to truth ! peruse this parson 'd page, 

And trust, for once, a prophet and a priest ; 

" INIeij may live fools, but fools tliey cannot die-.'* 



COMPLAINT. 

NIGHT FIFTH. 

THE RELAPSE. 



To the Right Honourable the Earl of Litchfield. 



XioREXzo ! to recriminate is just. 

Fondness of fame is avarice of air. 

I grant the man is vain -who writes for praise. 

Praise no man e'er deserv'd, who sought no more. 

As just thy second charge. I grant the muse 
Has often bkish'd at her degen'rate sons, 
Retain'd by sense to plead her filthy cause ; 
To raise the low, to magnify the mean, 
And subtilize the gross into refin'd : 
As if to magic numbers' pow'rful charm 
'Twas giv'n, to make a civit of their song 
Obscene, and sweeten ordure to perfume. 
Wit, a true Pagan, deifies the bi-ute. 
And lifts our swine-enjoyments from the mire. 

The fact notorious, nor obscure the cause. 
We Avear the chains oi pleasxire, and oi pride : 
These share the man, and these distract him too ; 
Draw diff'reiit ways, and clash in tlieir commands. 
Pride, like an Eagle, builds among the stars ; 
B'.it plsarure, Lark-like, nesta upon the ground. 



04 THE COMPLAINT. 

Joys shar'd by brute-ereation, pride resents ; 

Phasnre embraces : Man would both enjoy. 

And both at 07ice : A point how hard to gain ! 

Bat Avhat can't wit, when stnng by stiong desire ? 
AVit dares attempt this ai'ducus entorprize. 

Since joys of sense can't rise to Reason!^ s taste ; 

In subtle sophistrifs laborious Forjre. 

Iflt hammers out a reason ne~v, that stoops 

To sordid scenes, and meets them Avith applause. 

IVit calls the graces the chaste zone to loose ; 

Nor less than a phiinp god to fill the bowl : 

A thousand phantoms, and a thousand spells, 
A thousand opiates sdatters, to delude. 

To fascinate, inebriate, lay asleep, 

And the fool'd mind delightfully confound. 

Tlius that Avhich shock'd the jiulgmenty shocks r;0 

more ; 
That which gave pride offence, no more offends. 
Pleasure and piide, by nature, mortal foes. 
At war eternal, which in man shall reign. 
By 7i<it^s address, patch up a fatal peace. 
And, hand in hand, lead on the rank debauch, 
From rank, rcfin'd to delicate and gay. 
<^^rt, cursed art ! wipes off th' indebted blush 
From Nature's cheek, and bronzes ev'iy shame. 
Man smiles in niin, glories in his guilt. 
And infamy stands candidate for praise. 
All writ by man in favour of the sou], 
These sensual Ethics far, in bulk, ti-anscend. 
The flow'rs of eloquence, profusely pourd 
O'er spotted vice, fdl half the letter'd Avorld. 
Can pow'i-s of genius exorcise their page. 
And consecrate enoi*mities with song .'' 
But let not these inexpiable strains 
Condemn the muse that knows her dignity ; 
Nor meaidy stops at titue, but holds the world 
As 'tis, in nature's ample field, a point, 
A point in her esteem ; from whence to start, 
A,nd run the round of univei'sal space. 
To visit being universal there, 
Apd l.teing's source, th&t utmost fiight of mh»d ? 



3S1GUT FJDblH. 9 

\et, si>iLe of this so vast circumference, 

Well knows, but wliHt is moral, nought is ffreat. 

Sing SyreiiH only ? Do not angels sing ? 

There is-in Poesy a decent pride. 

Which Mcll becomes her when slie speaks to Prose, 

Her younger sister ; haply, not more wise. 
Thhik'st thou, Lorenzo ! to find pastimes liere ? 

No guilty passion blown into a flame. 

No foible flatter'd, dignity disgrac'd. 

No fairy field of fiction, all on flov'r. 

No rainbow colours, here, or silken tulc : 

But solemn counsels, images of awe. 

Truths, which eternity lets fall on man 

With double weight, thi'ough these i-cvolving spheres. 

This death-deep silence, and incumbent shade ; 

Thoughts, such as shall re-visit your last hour ; 
\\s\t uncall'd, and live when life expires ; 
And thy dark pencil, midnight .' darker still 
In melancholy dipt, embrowns the whole. 

Yet this, ev'n this, my laughter-loving friends ' 
LoREXZO ! and thy brothers of the smile ! 
If what imports you niost, can most engage, 
Shall steal your ear, and chain you to my song. 
Or, if you fail me, know, the wise shall taste 
The truths I sing ; the truths I sing shall feel ; 
And, feeling, give assent; and their assent 
Is ample recompense ; is more than praise. 
But chiefly thine, O Litchfield ! nor mistake ; 
Think not unintroduc'd I force my way ; 
Narcis.S-4, not unknown, not unally'd. 
By virtue, or by blood, illustrious Youth ! 
To thee, from blooming AmarantMne bow'rs, 
Wliere all the language harmony, descends 
Uncall'd, and asks admittance for the muse : 
A muse that will not pain thee with thy praise ; 
Thy pi-aise she drops, by nobler still inspir'd. 
O tliou ! blest spirit ! -.(ihetfier the supreme. 
Great ante-mundane Father ! in whose breast 
Embryo creation, unborn being, dv.elt. 
And all its various revolutions roU'd 
Present, though future ; prior to themselves ; 



96 THE COMPLAINT. 

Whose breath can blow it into nought again ; 

Or, from his throne some delegated pow'r, 

Who, studious of our peace, dost turn the thought 

From vain and vile, to solid and sublime ! 

Unseen, thou lead'st me to delicious draughts 

Of inspiration, from a purer stream. 

And fuller of the God, than that which burst 

From fam'd Castalia : Nor is yet allay'd 

My sacred thirst ; though long my soul has rang'd 

Through pleasing paths of moral and cUviney 

By thee sustain*d, and lighted by the stars. 

By them best lighted are the paths of thought t 
lights are their days^ theh' most illumin'd hours. 
By day, the soul, o'erborne by life's career, 
Stunn'd by the din, and giddy with the glare, 
Reels far from reason, jostled by the throng. 
By day the soul is passive, all her thoughts 
Impos'd, precarious, broken, e're mature. 
By night from objects free, from passion cool. 
Thoughts unconti'oU'd, and unimpress'd, the bulhs 
Of pure election, arbitrary range. 
Not to the limits of one world confin'd ; 
But from ethereal travels, Ught on earthy 
As voyages drop anchox', for repose. 

Let Indiansy and the gay, like Indians, fond 
Of feather'd fopperies, the sun adore : 
Darkness has more divinity for me ; 
It strikes thought inward ; it drives back the soul 
To settle on herself, our point supreme ! 
There lies our theatre ! there sits our judge. 
Darkness the curtain drops o'er life's dull scene ; 
'Tis the kind hand of Providence stretch'd out 
'Twixt man and vanity ; 'tis Reason^s reign, 
And virtue'' s too ; these tutelary shades 
Are man's asylum from the tainted thi'ong. 
JVight is the good man's fHend, and gvardian too ; 
It no less rescues virtue, than inspires. 

VirtuCy for ever frail, as fair, below. 
Her tender nature suffers in the crowd. 
Nor touches on the world, without a stain : 
The •world 's infectious ; few bring back at eve, 



NIGHT FIFTH. c: 

Immaculate, the manners of the morn. 

Something we thoiiglit, is blotted ; we resolv'dy 

Is shaken ; we renounced, returns again. 

Each sakitation may slide in a sin 

Unthought before, or fix a foniier flaw. 

Nor is it strange : Lights motion, coiicojirse, noise. 

All scatter us abroad ; thought outward-bound. 

Neglectful of our h6me-aftairs, flies off 

In fume and dissipation, quits lier charge,' 

And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe. 

Present example gets within our guard. 
And acts with double force, by few repell'd. 
Ambition fires ambition ; love of gain 
Strikes, like a pestilence, from breast to breast ; 
Riot, pride, perfidy, blue vapours breathe ; 
And inhumardty is caught from man. 
From smiling man. A slight, a single glance. 
And shot at random, often has brought home 
A sudden fever to the throbbing licart. 
Of envy, rancour, or impure desire. 
We see, we hear, with peril ; Safety dwells 
Remote from multitude ; the world's a school 
Qiiorong, and what proficients swarm around ! 
We must or imitate, or disapprove ; 
Must list as their accomplices, or foes ; 
That stains our innocence ; this wounds our peacc- 
From Nature's birth, hence, loisdoin has been smit 
With sweet recess, and languish'd for the shade. 

This sacred shade, and solitude, what is it I 
'Tis the felt presence of the Deity. 
Few are the faults we flatter, Avhen alone. 
Vice sinks in her allurements, is ungilt. 
And looks, like other objects, black' by night. 
By night, an atheist half-believes a God. 

Night is fair \-iilue's immemorial friend ; 
The conscious moon, through ev'ry distant age, 
lias held a lamp to loisdom, and let fall. 
On contempkitioi^ s eye, her purging ray. 
The fam'd AtJi^nian, he who woo'd from Heav'n 
Philosophy the fair, to dwell ^ith men, 
4.nd form their manners, not inflame their pride. 
E 



09 THE COMPLAINT. 

\Vhile o'er his head, as fearful to molest 
His lab'ring mind, the stars in silence slide, 
A.nd seem all gazing on their future guest, 
See him soliciting his ardent suit 
In private audience : All the live-long night. 
Rigid in thought, and motionless, he stands ; 
Nor quits his theme, or posture, 'till the sun 
(Rude drunkard, rising rosy from the main !) 
Distux'bs his nobler intellectual beam. 
And gives him to the tumult of the world. 
Hail, precious moments ! stoll'n from the black was 
Of murder'd Time ! Auspicious midnight, hail ! 
The world excluded, ev'iy passion hush'd. 
And open'd a calm intercourse with Heav'n, 
Here the soid sits in council ; ponders past^ 
Predestines ///^«re action; sees, not feels, 
Tumultuous life, and reasons with the storm ; 
All her lies answers, and thinks down her charms. 

What awful joy ! What mental liberty ! 
T am not pent in darkness ; rather say 
(If not too bold) in darkness I'm embowerd. 
l)elightful gloom ! the clust'ring thoughts around 
Spontaneous rise, and blossom in the shade ; 
But droop by day, and sicken in the Sun. 
Thought borrows light elsewhere ; from ih&Xfrst fire. 
Fountain of animation ! whence descends 
Urakia, my celestial guest ! who deigns 
Nightly to visit me, so mean ; and now 
Conscious how needful discipline to man. 
From pleasing dalliance with the charms of 7tight 
My wand'ring thought recalls, to what excites 
Far other beat of heart ; Narcissa's tomb \ 

Or is it feeble Nature calls me back, 
And breaks my sj)irit into grief again .'' 
Is it a Stygian vapour in my blood .'' 
A cold, slow puddle, creeping through my veins ? 
Or is it thus ^x\\h all men P — Thus with all. 
What are we ? How unequal ! Now we soar. 
And now we sink ; to be the same, transcends 
Our present prowess. Dearly pays the so'id 
For lodging ill ; too dearly rents her clay. 



MGHT FIFTH. 99 

Reason^ a baffled counsellor, but adds 

The blush of weakness, to the bane of woe. 

The noblest spirit fighting her hard fate. 

In this daxnp, dusky region, charg'd with storms, 

But feebly flutters, yet untaught to fly ; 

Or, flying, short her flight, and sure her fall. 

Our utmost strength, when down, to rise again ; 

And not to yield, though beaten, all our praise. 

'Tis vain to seek in men for more than man. 
Though proud in promise, big in previous thought, 
'Experience damps our triumph. I, who late, 
Emerging from the shadows of the grave. 
Where _g-ne/'detain'd me pris'ner, mounting high, 
Threw wide the gates of everlasting day, 
And call'd mankind to glory, shook oWpairiy 
J^IortaUty shook ofi", in ether pure. 
And struck the stars ; noiv feel my spirits fail ; 
They drop me from the zenith ; down I rush. 
Like him whom fable fledg'd with waxen wings. 
In sorrow drown'd — but not in sorrow lost. 
How wretched is the man who never mourn'd ! 
I dive for precious pearl in sorro^v's stream : 
Not so the thoughtless man that only gi-ieves ; 
Takes all the torment, and rejects the gain, 
(Inestimable gain!) and gives Heav'n leave 
To make him but more wretched, not more wise. 

If wisdom is our lesson, (and what else 
Ennobles man ? Wliat else have angels learnt ?) 
Grief/ more proficients in thy school are made, 
Than genius, or proitd learning e'er could boast. 
Voracious learning, often over-fed. 
Digests not into sense her motley meal. 
This book-case, with dark booty almost bui'st. 
This forager on others' wisdom, leaves 
Her native farm, her reason, quite untill'd. 
With mixt manure she surfeits the rank soil, 
Dung'd, but not drest ; and rich to beggai-y. 
A pomp untameable of weeds prevails. 
Her servant's wealth incumber'd ivisdom mourns. 

And Avhat says geimis ? " I^t the dull be loise.'' 
GeTUuf!, too hapd for right, c&'i prove it Avi-ong ; 



100 THE COMPLAINT. 

And loves to boast, where blush, men less inspir'd. 
It pleads exemption from the laMS o1^ sense ; 
Considers reason as a leveller ; 
And scorns to share a blessing vith the crowd. 
That wise it could be, thinks an ample claim 
To glory, and to pleasure gives the rest. 
CnAssrs but sleeps, Abdelio is undone. 
Wiscb7n less shudders at a fool, than wit. 

But wisdom smiles, when humbled mortals weep 
When sorroto v. ounds the bi'east, as ploughs the glebe. 
And hearts obdurate feel her soft'ning show'r; 
Her seed celestial, then, glad -ivlsdom sows ; 
Her golden harvest triumphs in tlie soil. 
If so, Nakcissa ! welcome my Relapse ; 
I'll raise a tax on my calamity. 
And reap rich compensation from my pain. 
I'll range the plenteous intellectual field ; 
And gatlier ev'iy thought of sov'reign pow'r 
To chase the moral maladies of inan ; 
Thoughts, which may bear transplanting to the skies, 
Though natives of this coarse penurious soil ; 
Hov wholly wither there, where Seraphs sing, 
Refin'd, exalted, not annull'd in Heav'n ; 
Reason, the sun that gives them birth, the same 
In either ciime, though more illustrious there. 
These clioicely cull'd, and elegantly rang'd. 
Shall form a garland for Naticissa's tomb ; 
And, peradventure, of no fading flow'rs. 

Say, on what themes shall puzzled choice descend i' 
*• Th' importance of contemplating the tomb ; 
*' Why men decline it ; sJiicule's foul birth ; 
" The various fc!?ids of grief ; the faidts of age ; 
'* And deatKs dread character' — invite my song." 

And, first, th' importance of our end survi'y'd. 
Friends counsel quick dismission of our grief: 
Mistaken kindness ! our hearts heal too soon. 

Are they more kind than lie who struck tlic blow .'' 
Who bid it do his errand in our hearts. 
And banish peace, till nobler guests arrive, 
\nd bring it back a true and endless peace ? 
Calamities arv friends : As glaring day 



NIGHT FIFTH. 101 

Of tliese unnumbei-'d lustres I'obs our sight ; 
JProsperity puts out unnumber'd thoughts 
Of import high, and light divine, to man. 

The man how blest! who, sick o^ gaudy scenes, 
(Scenes apt to thrust between us and ourselves,) 
Is led by choice, to take his fav'rite walk, 
Beneath death's gloomy, silent, cypress shades, 
Unpierc'd by vanity's fantastic ray ; 
To read his monuments, to weigh his dust. 
Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs. 
LoRKNZO ! read with me Nahcissa's stone ; 
(Narcissa was thy fav'rite ;) let us read 
Her moral stone ; few doctors preach so well ; . 
Few oi-ators so tenderly can touch 
The feeling heart. What pathos in the date f 
Apt words can strike ; and yet in them A\e see 
Faint images of what A\e here enjoy. 
What cause have ive to bnild on length of life ? 
Temptations seize, when fear is laid asleep ; 
And ill forebotlcd is our strongest guard. 

See from her tomb, as from an humble shrine, 
Truth, radiant goddess ! sallies on my soul. 
And puts delusion's dusky train to flight ; 
Dispels the mist oi* sultry passions raise. 
From objects >J«av, terrestrial, and obscene f 
And shews the real estimate of things; 
Which no man, uuafflicted, ever saw ; 
Pulls off the veil from virtue's rising charms ; 
Detects temptation in a thousand lies. 
Tnith bids me look on men, as Autiimn leaves, 
And all they bleed for, as the summer's dust, 
Driv'u by the v. hirhvind : Lighted by her beam^;, 
I widen my horizon, gain new powers. 
See things invisible, feel things remote, 
Am present m ith futurities ; think nought 
To man so foreign, as the joys possess d ; 
Nought so much his, as those beyond the gia%'c 

1^0 folly keeps its colour in her sight; 
Pale -worldly luisdom loses all her chaniis ; 
In pompous promise, from her schemes pi-ofound, 
If future fate she plans, 'tis all in leaver. 



103 THE COMPLAINT. 

Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss ! 
At the first blast it vanishes in air. 
Not so, celestial : Wouldst thou know, LoHENZd^ 
How differ worldly •wisdom, and divine ? 
Just as the waning, and the waxing moon. 
More empty ivorldly wisdom ev'ry day ; 
And ev'ry day more fair her rival shines. 
When later, thei'e's less time to play the fool. 
Soon our whole term for wisdom is expir'd 
(Thou know'st she calls no council in the grave :) 
And everlasting fool is wi'it in fire, 
Or real wisdom wafts us to the skies. 

As Avorldly schemes resemble SibyVs leaves, 
The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare 
(In ancient story read, thou know'st the tale) 
In price still rising, as in number less. 
Inestimable quite his final hoiu'. 
For that Avho thrones can offer, offer thrones ; 
Insolvent worlds the purcliase cannot pay. 
" Oh let me die his death !" all Nature cries. 
" Then live his life" — All Nature faulters there. 
Our great physician daily to consult. 
To commune with the grave ^ our only cure. 

What grave prescribes the best*— A firiend's ; and 
yet '. 

From a friend's gi'ave, liow soon we disengage ! 
Ev'n to the dearest, as his marble, cold. 
Why are friends ravisli'd from us ? 'Tis to bind. 
By soft affection'' s ties, on human hearts. 
The thought of death, which reason, too supine. 
Or misemploy'd, so rarely fastens tliere. 
Nor reason, nor affection, no, nor both 
Combin'd, can break the Avitchcrafts of the world. 
Behold th' inexorable hour at hand ! 
Behold th' inexorable hour forgot ! 
And to forget it, the chief aim of life, 
Though well to ponder it, is life's chief end. 

Is death, that ever threat'ning, ne'er remote, 
That all-important, and that only sure, 
(Come when he will) an unexpected guest 
Nay, though invited by the loudest calls 



NIGHT FIFTH. 103 

Of blind impnidencef unexpected still ; 
Though num'rous messengei's are sent before, 
To warp his great arrival. What the cause. 
The wondrous cause, of this mysterious ill ? 
All Heav'n looks down, astonish'd at the sight. 

Is it, that life has sown hev joi/s so thick. 
We can't thi'ust in a single care between ? 
Is it, that life has such a s■^^ arm of cares,' 
The thought of death can't enter for the throng ? 
Is it, that time steals on with downy feet. 
Nor wakes indulgence from her golden dream ? 
To-day is so like yesterday, it cheats ; 
We take the lying sister for the same. 
Ijife glides away, Lorenzo ! like a brook ; 
For ever changing, unperceiv'd the change. 
In the same brook none ever bath'd him twice: 
To the same life none ever tAvice awoke. 
We call the brook the same ; the same we think 
Our life, though still more rapid in its flow ; 
Nor mark the imich irx'evocably laps'd. 
And mingled with the sea. Or sliall Ave say, 
(Retaining still the brook to bear us on) 
That life is like a Acssel on the stream r 
In life embark'd, yve smoothly doAvn the tide 
Of time descend, but not on time intent ; 
Amus'd, unconscious of the gliding Avave ; 
'Till on a sudden Ave perceive a sliock ; 
W^e start, awake, look out ; Avhat see Ave there ? 
Our brittle bark is burst on Charon's shore. 

Is this the cause death flies all human thought ? 
Or is \tjudgme7it, by the -cvill struck blind. 
That domineering mistress of the soul. 
Like him so strong, by Dalilah the fair .'' 
Or is it fear turns startled reason back, 
From looking doAvn a precipice so steep .'' 
'Tis dreadful ; and the dread is Avisely plac'd. 
By Nature, conscious of the make of man. 
A dreadful friend it is, a terror kind, 
A flaming SAvord to guard the tree of life. 
By that unaAv'd, in life's most smiling hour. 
The good man would i-epine ; Avould suffer joys, 



m. 



104 THE COMPLAINT. 

And bui'n impatient for his promis'd skies. |fl 

The bad, on each punctilious pique of pride, ^ 
Or gloom of humour, would give rage the rein. 
Bound o'er the barrier, rash into the dai'k, 
And mar the scenes of Providence below. 

What groan was that, Loreistzo ? — Furies ! rise ; 
And drown, in your less execrable yell, 
JBritannia's shame. There took her gloomy flight, 
On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul, 
Blasted fi't)m hell, with hoi'rid lust of death. 
Thy friend, the brave, the gallant Altamont, 
So call'd, so thought— And theyi he fled the field. 
Less base the fear of death, than fear of life. 
O Btntain, infamous for suicide ! 
An island in thy manners ! far disjoin'd 
From the Avhole Avoi-ld of rationals beside ! 
In ambient waves plunge thy polluted head. 
Wash the dire stain, nor shock the continent. 

But thou be shock'd, w bile I detect the cause 
Of self-assault, expose the monster's birth. 
And i)id abhorrence hiss it round the world. 
Blame not thy clime, nor chide the distant sun : 
The sun is innocent, thy clime absolv'd : 
Immoral climes kind Nature never made. 
The cause I sing, in Eden might prevail. 
And proves it is thy folli/y not thy fate. 

The soul of man (let man in homage bow. 
Who naines his sovl) a native of the skies ! 
High -bom, and free, her freedom should maintain. 
Unsold, unmoitgag'd for eartli's little bribes. 
Th' illustrious stranger, in this foreign land. 
Like strangers, jealous of her dignity. 
Studious of home, and ardent to return. 
Of earth suspicious, earth's enchanted cup 
With cool reserve light touching, should indulge. 
On immortalUy, her godlike taste ; 
There take large draughts ; make h^r chief banquet 

tliere. 
But some reject this sustenance divine ; 
To beggai'ly vile appetites descend ; 
Ask alms of earth, for guests that came from Heav'r' - 



NIGHT FIFTH. iv^ 

Sink into slaves ; and sell for present hire, 

Their yich reversion, and (what shares its fate) 

Their native freedom, to the prince who sways 

This nether world. And when his payments fail. 

When his foul hasket goi'ges them no more, 

Or their pall'd palates loatlie the basket, full ; 

Are instantly, with wild demoniac rage, 

For breaking all tlie chains of Providence, 

And bursting their confinement ; though fast barr'd 

By laws divine and human ; guarded sti-ong 

With horrors doubled to defend the pass, 

The blackest, JS'^ature, or dire gndlt can raise ; 

And moated i^ound M'ith fathomless destruction^ 

Sure to receive, and whelm them in their fall. 

Such, Britons ! is the cause, to you unknown, 
Or worse,*" o'erlook'd ; o'erlook'd by magistrates. 
Thus criminals themselves. I grant the deed 
Is madness ; but the madness of the heart. 
And what is that i" Oui* utmost bound of guilt. 
A sensual unreflecting life, is big 
With monstrous births, and suicide, to crown 
The black inferi'.al brood. The bold to Iji-oak 
Heav'n's law supremo, and desperately rush 
Through sacred J\\iture''s murder, on their own. 
Because they never think of death, they die. 
'Tis equally man's dutj', glory, gain, 
hX. once to slum, and meditate his end. 
When by the bed of languishment Ave sit, 
(The seat of wisdom ! if our choice, not fate,) 
Or, o'er our dying friends, in anguish hang. 
Wipe the cold dew, or stay the sinking head, 
Number their moments, and, in ev'iy clock. 
Start at the voice of an eternity ; 
See the dim lamp of life just feebly lift 
An agonizing beam, at us to gaze. 
Then sink again, and quiver into death. 
That most patlietic herald of our ow n ; 
How read we such sad scenes ? As sent to man 
In pei'fect vengeance ? No ; in pity sent. 
To melt him down like wax, and then impress, 
Indelible, deatKs image on his heart ; 
e2 



i06 THE COMPLAINT. 

Bleeding for others, trembling for himself. 

We bleed, we tremble; w<? forget, we smile. 

The mind tnrns fool, before the cheek is dry. 

Our quii-k-returningyb//?/ cancels all ; 

As the tide rushipig razes what is writ 

In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore 

LoREXZO ! hast thou ever weigh'd a sigh ? 
Or study'd the philosophy of tears ? 
(A science yet unlectur'd in our schools!) 
ilast thou descended deep into the breast. 
And seen their som-ce ? If not, descend with me. 
And trace these briny riv'lets to their springs. 

Om* fun'ral tears from difF'rent causes rise. 
As if from sep'rate cisterns in the sonl, 
Of vario^is hinds, they flow. From tender hearts. 
By soft contagion call'd, so7ne burst at once, ' 
And stream obsequious to the leading eye. 
Sotne ask more time, by curious art distill'd. 
Soine hearts in secret hard, unapt to melt. 
Struck by the magic of the public eye, 
Like Moses' smitten rock, gixsh out amain. 
Some weep to share the fame of the deceas'd. 
So high in merit, and to them so dear. 
They dwell on praises, which they think they share ; 
And thus, without a blush, commend themselves. 
Some mourn in proof that something they could love ; 
They weep not to relieve their gi'ief, but sheiv. 
Some weep in perfect justice to the dead. 
As conscious all their love is in arrear. 
Some mischievously weep, not unappris'd. 
Tears, somiitimes, aid the conquest of an eye. 
With what address the soft Ephesians di-aw 
Their sable net-work o'er entangled hearts ! 
As seen thi'ough crystal, how their roses glow. 
While liquid pearl runs trickling down their cheek ! 
Of her's not prouder Egypt's wanton queen. 
Carousing gems, herself dissolv'd in love. 
Some weep at death, abstracted from the dead. 
And celebrate, like Chap-LES, their own decease. 
By kind construction some are deemed to weep. 
Because a decent veil conceals their joy. 



NIGHT FIFTH. 107 

Some weep in earnest, and yet weep in vain ; 
As deep in indiscretion, as in woe. 
Passion^ blind passion, impotently pours 
Tears, that deserve more tears ; while Reason sleeps ; 
Or gazes, like an idiot, unconcern'd ; 
Nor comprehends the meaning of the storm ; 
Knows not it speaks to her, and her aloiie. 
Ii^rationals all sorrow are beneath. 
That noble gift ! that privilege of man ! 
From sorrow's pang, the birth of endless joy. 
But these are baiTen of that biilh dinne : 
They weep impetuous, as the summer storm. 
And fnll as short ! The cruel grief soon tam'd, 
They make a pastime of the stingless tale ; 
Far as the deep resounding knell, they spread 
The dreadful news, and haidly feel it more. 
No grain of tvisdom pays them for theii' xvoe. 

Half-romid the globe, the tears pumpt up by death 
Are spent in wat'ring vanities of life ; 
In making folly flourish still more fair. 
When the sick soul, her wonted stay withdrawn, 
Reclines on earth, and sorrows in the dust ; 
Instead of learning, there, her t'i^ie support, 
Tho' there thrown down her true support to learn. 
Without Heav'n's aid impatient to be blest. 
She crawls to the next shrub, or bramble vile. 
Though irora the stately cedar's arms she fell : 
With stale, forsworn embraces, clings aneAv-, 
The stranger weds, and blossoms, as before. 
In all the fruitless fopperies of life : 
Presents her -weed, well-fancy'd, at the ball. 
And i-afiles for the death'' s-hend on the ring. 

So wept AcBELiA, 'till Uie destin'd youth 
Stept ki, with his receipt for making smiles, 
Aiid blanching sables into bridal bloom. 
So wept LoRE>-zo fair Clarissa's fate; 
Wlio gave that angel boy, on whom he do.its; 
And dy'd to give him, orphan 'd in his birth ! 
Not such, Naiicissa, my distress for thee. 
I'll make an altar of thy' sacred tomb, 
To saci-ifice to wisdom. — What w.ast thou i* 



108 THE COMPLAINT. 

*' Young, gay, ^x\(\ fortunate /" Each yields a thenxf, 
I'll dwell on each, to shun thought more severe ; 
(Heav'n knows I labour with severer still !) 
I'll dwell on each, and quite exhaust thy death. 
A soul without reflection, like a pile 
Without inhabitant, to ruin iiins. 

And first, thy yoiith. What says it to grey hairs r 
Narcissa, I'm become thy i)upil noio — 
Early, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew, 
She sparkled, M'as exhal'd, and Avent to Heav'n. " 
Time on this head has snow'd ; yet still 'tis borne 
Alot't ; nor thinks but on another^ s gi-ave. 
Cover'd with shame I speak it, age severe. 
Old worn-out vice sets down for virtue fair j 
With gi-aceless gi'avity chastising youth. 
That youth chastis'd surpassing in a fault, 
Father of all, forgetfulness of death : 
As if, like objects pressing on the sight. 
Death had advanc'd too near us to be seen : 
Or, that life's loan time ripen'd into right ; 
And men might plead prescription from the gra^v e ; 
Deatliless, from repetition of i-eprieve. 
Deathless ? far from it ! such are dead already ; 
Their hearts are bury'd, and the \\ oi-ld their grave. 

Tell me, some god ! my guardian angel! tell. 
What thus infatuates ? what enchantment plants 
The phantom of an age 'twixt us and death 
Already at the door ? He knocks, we hear him, 
And yet we will not hear. Wliat mail defends 
Our untouch 'd heails ? What miracle tm-ns off 
The pointed thought, which from a thousand quivers 
Is daily darted, and is daily shunn'd .-' 
We stand, as in a battle, throngs on throngs 
Around us falling ; wounded oft om-selves ; 
Tiiough bleeding with our wounds, immortal still ! 
We see time's furi'ows on another's brow. 
And death intrench'd, preparing his assault ; 
How few themselves hi that just mirror see ! 
Or, seeing, draw their inference as strong ! 
Tliere death is certain ; doubtful Jiere : He 7nust, 
And soon ; we 7nay, within an age, expu-e. 



NIGHT FIFTH. 109 

Though grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are 

gi'een ; 
Like damag'd clocks, whose hand and bell dissent, 
Folly sings six, while J^'ature points at twelve. 

Absurd longevity ! More, more, it cries : 
More life, more wealth, more trash of ev'ry kind. 
And wherefore mad for more, when relish fails ? 
Object and appetite must club for joy ; ' 
Shall /b% labour hard to mend the bow, 
Baubfes, I mean, that strike us from -without^ 
While Matiire is relaxing ev'ry string ? 
Ask thought for joy ; grow rich, and hoard •mithin. 
Think you the soul, when this life's rattles cease. 
Has nothing of more manly to succeed ? 
Contract the taste immortal ; learn ev'n now 
To relish what aloiie subsists hereafter. 
Divine, or none, henceforth your joys for ever. 
Of aga the glory is, to ivish to die. 
That wish is praise and promise ; it applauds 
Past life, and promises oui' future bliss. 
What weakness see not children in theii' sires 
Grand-climacterical absurdities ! 
Grey-hair'd authority, to faults of youth. 
How shocking ! It makes folly thrice a fool ; 
And oui\first childhood might our last despise. 
Peace and esteem is all that age can hope. 
Nothing but luisdom gives the Jirst ; the last. 
Nothing, but the repute of being -wise. 
Folly bars botli ; our age is quite undone. 

What folly can be ranker .'' Like our shadows. 
Our wishes lengthen, as our sun declines. 
No wish should loiter, then, this side the gi'ave. 
Our hearts should leave the world, before the knell 
Calls for our carcasses to mend the soil. 
Enough to live in tempest, die in port ; 
Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat 
Defects o^ judgment, and the will subdue ; 
Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore 
Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon ; 
And put good -works on board ; and M-ait the wind 
That shortly blows us into worlds luiknown : 



liO THE COMPLAINT. 

If uncousider'd too, a dreadful scene ! 

All should be prophets to themselves ; foresee 
Theiv fuUire fate ; thexr future fate foretaste ; 
This art would waste the bitterness of death. 
The thought of death alone, the /ear destroys. 
A disaffection to that precious thought 
Is more than midiiight darkness on the soul, 
AVhich sleeps beneath it, on a precipice, 
Pufi'M off* by the first blast, and lost for ever. 

Dost ask, Lorenzo, why so warmly prest, 
By repetition hammer'd on thine ear, 
The thought of death ? That thought is the machine. 
The grand machine, that heaves us from the dust, 
And rears us into men. That thought ply'd home, 
Will soon reduce the ghastly precipice 
O'er-hanging hell, will soften the descent. 
And gently slope our passage to the grave : 
How warmly to be wish'd ! What heart of flesh 
Would trifle with tremendous ? dare extremes ? 
Yawn o'er the fate of infinite ? What hand. 
Beyond the blackest brand of censure bold, 
(To speak a language too -well known to thee.) 
Would at a moment give its all to chance, 
And stamp the die for an eternity ? 

Aid me, Narcissa ! aid me to keep pace 
With destiny ; and ere her scissars cut 
>Iy thread of life, to break this tougher thread 
Of moral death, that ties me to the world. 
Sting thou my slumb'ring reason to send forth 
A thought of observation on the foe ; 
To sally, and survey the rapid march 
Of his ten thousand messengers to man ; 
Who, JEHU-Iike, behind him turns them all. 
All accident apart, by JSi'ature sign'd. 
My warrant is gone out, though dormant yet ; 
Perhaps behind one moment lui-ks my fate. 

Must I Xh^nforioard only look for death ? 
Backward I turn mine eye, and find him there ■ 
Man is a self-survivor ev'ry year. 
Man, like a stream, is in pei'X)ctual flow 
Death's a destroyer of quotidian prey. 



NIGHT FIFTH. lU 

My youth, my noon-tide, his ; my yesterday ; 
The bold invader shares the present hour. 
Each moment on the former shuts the grave. 
While man is growing, hfe is in decrease ; 
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. 
Our birth is nothing but our death begun ; 
As tapers m aste, that instant they take fire. 

Sliall we tlien fear, lest that should come to pass, 
Which comes to i)ass each moment of our lives ? 
If fear we must, let that death tuni us pale. 
Which murders strength and ardour ,- what remains 
Should I'ather call on death, than dread his call. 
Ye partners of my fault, and my decline ! 
Thoughtless of death, but when your neighbour's 

knell 
fRude visitant !) knocks hard at your dull sense. 
And with its thunder scarce obtains your ear ! 
Be death your theme in ev'ry place and hour ; 
Xor longer want, ye monumental sires ! 
A brother tomb to tell you, you shall die. 
That death you dread (so great is Nature's skill !) 
Know, you shall court, before you shall enjoy. 

But you are learn'd ; in volumes, deep you sit ; 
In wisdom, shallow : Pompous ignorance ! 
Would you be still more learned than the learn'd ? 
lieani well to know how much need not be known. 
And what that knowledge, which impairs your se/tae. 
Our needful knowledge, like our needful food, 
Unhedg'<l, lies open in life's common field ; 
And bids all welcome to the vital feast. 
You scorn what lies before you in the page 
Of ,i\\itnre and experience, moral truth ! 
Of indispensable, eternal fruit ! 
Fruit, on w hich mortals feeding, turn to gods ; 
And dive in science for distinguish 'd names. 
Dishonest fomentation of your pride ; 
Sinking in virtue, as you rise in fa)ue. 
Your learning, like the lunar beam, affords 
Ligiit, but not heat ; it leaves you undevout. 
Frozen at heart, while speculation shiuea. 
Av.akc, yo curious in4agator9 ! fond 
Mr ■- 



\12 THE COMPLAINT. 

Of know ing all, but what avails you, known •, 
If you would learn death* s character, attend. 
All casts of conduct, all degi-ees of health. 
All dies of fortune, and all dates of age. 
Together shook in his impartial ui'n. 
Come forth at random : Or if choice is made, 
The choice is quite sarcastic, and insults 
All bold conjecture, and fond hopes of man. 
What countless multitudes, not only leave. 
But deeply disappoint us, by their deaths ! 
Though great our soitow, greater our sm'prise. 

Like other tyrants, death delights to smite. 
What smitten, most procUiims the pride of pow'r, 
And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme. 
To bid the wretch survive the fortunate ; 
The feeble wrap th' athletic in his shroud ; 
And weeping fathers build their childi'en's tomb ; 
Me, thine, Narcissa ! — ^What tho' short thy date ? 
Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures. 
That life is long, which answers life's gi*eat end. 
The time that bears no fruit, deserves no name ; 
The man of wisdom is the man of years. 
In hoary youth Methusalems may die ; 
O how misdated on their flatt'ring tombs ! 

Narcissa's yovth has leclur'd me thus far. 
And can her gaiety give counsel too ? 
That, like the Jews' fam'd oracle of gems. 
Sparkles instruction ; such as thi'Ows new light, 
And opens more the character of death, 
III known to thee, Lorexzo ! this thy vaunt : 
" Give death his due, the wretched, and the old ; 
Ev'n let him sweep his rubbish to the grave ; 
Let him not violate kind Nature's laws. 
But own man born to live, as well as die." 
Wretched and old thou giv'st him ; yowig and gaxf 
He takes ; and phmder is a tyrant's joy. 
What if I prove, " The farthest from the fear. 
Are often nearest to the stroke of fate ?" 

All, more than common, menaces an end. 
A blaze betokens brevity of life : 
As if bright embers should emit a flame ; 



NIGHT FIFTH. 113 

Glad spirits spai'kled from Narcissa's eye. 

And made youth younger, and taught life to live. 

As Nature's opposites wage endless war, 

For this offence, as treason to the deep 

Inviolable stupor of his reign. 

Where hcst^ and turbulent ambition sleep. 

Death took swift vengeance. As he life detests, 

More life is still more odious ; and, reduc'd 

By conquest, aggrandizes more his pow'r. 

But -wherefore aggi-andiz'd ? By Heav'n's decree. 

To plant the soul on her eternal guard. 

In awful expectation of our end. 

Thus runs death's dread commission : ** Strike, but so. 

As most alarms the living by the dead." ' 

Hence stratagem delights him, and surprise. 

And cruel sport with man's seciu-ities. 

Not simple conquest, triumph is his aim ; 

And, where least fear'd, there conquest triumphs 

most; 
This proves my bold assertion not too bold. 

What are his arts to lay our fears asleep ? 
Tiberian arts his pui-poses -wrap up 
In deep dissimulation's darkest night. 
Like princes unconfest in foreigi\ courts, 
Who travel under cover, death assumes 
The name and look of life, and dwells among us. 
He takes all shapes that serve his black designs : 
Though master of a wider empire far 
Than that, o'er which the Roman eagle flew ; 
Like JVero, he's a fiddler, charioteer. 
Or drives his phaeton, in female guise ; 
Quite unsuspected, till, the wheel beneath. 
His disaiTay'd oblation he dcAours. 

He most affects the forms least like himselt. 
His slender self Hence burly corpulence 
Is his familiar wear, and sleek disguise. 
Belund tlie rosy bloom he loves to lurk. 
Or ambush in a smile : or wanton dive 
III dimples deep ; love's eddies, which draw in 
Unwary hearts, and sink them in despair. 
?uch. Oil Naucissa's couch he loiter'd long 



114 THE COMPLAINT. 

Unknown ; and, when detected, still was seen 
To smile ; such peace has innocence in death ! 

Most hapi)y they, whom least his arts deceive. 
One eye on deaths and one full fiix'd on Heav'n, 
Becomes a moi'tal, and immoital man. 
Long on his wiles a piquM and jealous spy, 
I've seen, or dream'd I saw, the tyrant dress ; 
Lay by liis horrors, and put on his smiles. 
Say, muse, for thou remember' st, call it back. 
And shew Lorenzo the surprising scene ; 
If 'twas a dream, his genius can explain. 

'Twas in a circle of the fi^ot/ 1 stootl : 
Death Avould have enter d ; JWiture push'd him 

back ; 
Supported by a doctor of renown, 
His point he gain'd. Then artfully dismiss' d 
The sage ; for death design'd to be conceal'd. 
He gave an old vivacious i/svrer 
His meagre aspect, and his naked bones ; 
In gratitude for plumping up his prey, 
A pamper'd spendthrift ,- whose fantastic air, 
Well-fashion'd figure, and cockaded brow. 
He took in change, and underneath the pride 
Of costly linen, tuck'd his filthy shroud. 
His crooked bow he straightened to a cane ; 
And hid his deadly shafts in Myra's eye. 

The dreadful masquerader, thus equip'd 
Out sallies on adventures. Ask you where .'' 
Where is he not ? For his peculiai' haunts. 
Let this suffice ; sure as night follows day. 
Death treads in pleasure's footsteps round the world. 
When pleasure treads the paths, Avhich reason shuns. 
When, against reason, riot shuts the door. 
And gaiety supplies the place of sense. 
Then, foremost at the banquet, and the ball. 
Death leads the dance, or stamps the deadly die ; 
Nor ever fails the midniglit bowl to crOAvn. 
Gaily carousing to liis gay compeers, 
Inly he laughs, to see them laugh at him. 
As absent far : And Avhen the revel bums. 
When fear is biaiish'd, and triumphant thoughf. 



NIGHT FIFTH, 115 

Calling for all the joys beneath the moon, 
Against him tui-ns the key, and bids him sup 
With their progenitors— He drops his mask ; 
Frowns out at fuU^ they start, despair, expire. 

Scarce with more sudden terror and surprise, 
Frop liis black masque of Nitre, toueh'd by fire. 
He bursts, expands, roars, blazes, and devours. 
And is not this triumphant treachery. 
And, mare than simple conquest, in Uie fiend ? 

And now, Lorkxzo, dost thou wrap thy soul 
In soft security, because unknown 
Which moment is commission'd to destroy -? 
In death's uncertainty thy danger lies. 
Is death imcertain ? Therefore thou be fix'd ; 
Fix'd as a centinel, all eye, all ear. 
All expectation of the coming foe. 
Rouse, stand in arms, nor lean against thy spear ; 
Lest slumber steal one moment o'er thy soul. 
And fate sui'prise thee nodding. Watch, be strong ; 
Thus give each day the merit, and renown, 
Of dying welU; though doom'd but once to die. 
Nor let life's period hidden (as from most) 
Hide too from thee the precious rise of life. 

Early, not sudden, was Naucissa's fate. 
Soon, not siu*prising, death his visit paid. 
Her thought went forth to meet liim on his way. 
Nor gaiety forgot it was to die : 
Though Jortnne too (our third and final theme,) 
As an accomplice, play'd her gaudy plumes. 
And ev'ry glitt'ring gewgaw, on her sight. 
To dazzle, and debauch it from its mark. 
Death's dreadful advent is the mai-k of man ; 
And ev'ry thouglit that misses it, is blind. 
Fortiiney with youth and gaiety conspir'd 
To weave a triple wreath of happiness 
(If happiness on earti\) to crown her brow. 
And, could death charge thro' sucii a shining shield r 

That sb'.r.ing shi.-ki mrifes the tyrant's speai". 
As if TO damp our elevated aims. 
And strongly preach humility to man. 
O, how portentous is prosperity ! 



116 THE COMPLAINT. 

How, coraet-like, it threatens, while it shines ! 
Few years but yield us proof of death's ambition^ 
To cull his victims from the fairest fold, 
And sheath his shafts in all the pride of life. 
Wlien flooded with abundance, pui-pled o'er 
With recent honom-s, bloom'd with ev'ry bliss. 
Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 
The gaudy centre of the public eye, 
Wlian fo7^tune thus has toss'd her child in air, 
Snatch'd fi-om the covert of an humble state. 
How often have I seen him dropp'd at once. 
Our morning's envy, and our evening's sigh ! 
As if her bounties was the signal ^v'n, 
Tiie flow'ry wreatli to mark the sacrifice, 
And call death's arrows on the destin'd prey. 

Wg-h fortune seems in cruel league v>\Xkvfate. 
Ask you for what i" To give his Avar on man 
The deeper dread, and more illustrious spoil ; 
Thus to keep daring mortals more in awe. 
And burns LoRE>rzo still for the sublime 
Of life ? to hang his airy nest on high. 
On the slight timber of the topmost bough, 
Rock'd at each breeze, and menacing a fall ? 
Granting gi-im death at equal distance there ; 
Yet peace begins just where ambition ends. 
What makes man wretched ? Happiness deny'd? 
Lorenzo ! no : 'Tis happiness disdained. 
She comes too meanly dress'd to win our smile ; 
And calls hei'self Content, a homely name ! 
Our flame is transport, and content our scorn. 
Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her. 
And Aveds a toil, a tempest, in her stead ; 
A tempest to warm transport near akin. 
Unknowing what our mortal state admits. 
Life's modest joys we ruin, Avhile we raise ; 
And all our ecstacies are wounds to peace : 
Peace, the full portion of mankind below. 

And since thy peace is dear, ambitious youth ! 
Of fortune fond, as thoughtless of thy fate ! 
As late I drew death's picture, to stir up 
?'by wholesome feara ; now, drawn m contrast, see 



NIGHT FIFTH. 117 

G-xy foHn7ie^Sf thy vain hopes to reprimand. 
See, high in air, the sportive goddess hangs, 
Unlocks her casket, spreads her ghtt'ring ware, 
And calls the giddy winds to puflf abroad 
Her random bounties o'er the gaping throng. 
All rush rapacious ; friends o'er trodden friends ; 
Sons o'er their fathei-s, subjects o'er their kings, 
Priests o'er their gods, and lovers o'er the fail", 
(Still more ador'd) to snatch the golden show'r. 

Gold glitters most, where virtue shines no more ; 
As stars from absent suns have leave to shine. 
O what a precious pack of votaries, 
TJnkennell'd from the prisons, and the stews. 
Pour in, all op'ning in their idol's praise ! 
All, ardent, eye each wafture of her hand. 
And, wide expanding their voracious jaws. 
Morsel on morsel swallow down unchcw'd, 
Untasted, through mad appetite for more ; 
Gorg'd to the throat, yet lean and rav'nous stilL 
Sagacious all, to trace the smallest game. 
And bold to seize the greatest. If (blest chance !) 
Court-zephyrs sweetly breathe, they launch, the. 

fly. 

O'er just, o'er sacred, all-forbidden gi'ound. 
Drunk with the burning scent of place or pow'r, 
Staunch to the foot of lucre, till they die. 

Or, if for men you take them, as I mark 
Their manners, thou their various ^c^es survcv. 
With aim mis-measur'd, and impetuous speed, 
So7ne darting, strike their ardent wish far off. 
Through fuiy to possess it : Some succeed. 
But stumble, and let fall the taken prize ; 
From 807716, by sudden blasts, 'tis whirl'd away. 
And lodged in bosoms that ne'er dream'd of gain : 
To some it sticks so close, that, when torn off, 
Toi'n is the man, and mortal is the wound. 
So7ne, o'er-enamour'd of their bags, run mad. 
Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread 
Together some (unhappy rivals !) seize, 
And rend abundance into, poverty ; 
Loud croaks the raven of the law, and smiles 



118 THE COMPLAINT. 

Smiles too the goddess : but smiles most at thosi- 
(Just victims of exorbitant desire !) 
Who perish at their ow n request, and, whelm'd. 
Beneath her load of lavish grants, expire. 
Fortune is famous for her numbers slain. 
The number small, which happiness can bear. 
Though various for a wliile their fates ; at last 
One curse involves them all : At death's approach, 
All read their riches backward into loss. 
And mourn in just proportion to their store. 

And death's approach (if orthodox my song) 
Is hasten'd by the lure of fortune'' s smiles. 
And art thou still a glutton of bright gold ? 
And art thou still rapacious of thy ruin ? 
Death loves a shining mai'k, a signal blow ; 
A blow, which, while it executes, alaivm ; 
And startles thousands with a single fall. 
As when some stately growth of oak or pine. 
Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade, 
The sun's defiance, and the flocks' defence ; 
By the strong strokes of lab'ring hinds subdu'd, 
I^oud gi'oans her last, and, rushing from her height, 
lu cumbrous ruin, thunders to the gi'ound : 
I'he conscious forest trembles at the shock. 
And hill, and stream, and distant dale, resound. 

These high-aim'd darts of death, and these alone. 
Should I collect, my quiver Avould be full. 
A quiver, which, suspended in mid air. 
Or near Heav'n's archer, in the Zodiac, hung, 
(So could it be) shoidd draw the public eye. 
The gaze and contemplation of mankind ! 
A constellation awful, yet benign, j, 

To guide the gay through life's tempestuous wave, 
Xor suffer them to strike the common rock, 
" From greater danger to gTOAv more secure, 
And wrapp'd in happiness, forget their fate." 

Ltsaxder, happy past the common lot, 
Waat warn'd of danger, but too gay to fear. 
lie woo'd the fair Aspasia : She was kind : 
Tn youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were 
bless'd : 



NIGHT FIFTH. 119 

All who knew, envy'd ; yet in envy lov'd : 

Can fancy form more finish'd happiness ? 

Fix'd Avas the nuptial hour. Her stately dome 

Rose on the sounding beach. The glitt'ring spires 

Float in the v ave, and break against the shore : 

So break those glitt'ring shadows, human joys. 

The faithless morning smil'd : He takes Ids leave, 

To re -embrace in ecstacies, at eve. 

The risinf storm forbids. The news arrives : 

Untold, she saAr it in her sen-ant's eye. 

She felt it seen (her heart was apt to feel ;) 

And, drOAvn'd, without the furious ocean's aid. 

In suffocating sorrows, shares his tomb. 

Now, round the sumptuous, bridal monument, 

The guilty billows innocently roar ; 

And. the rodigh sailor passing, drops a tear. 

A tear ! Can tears suffice ? — But not for me. 

How vain our efforts f and our arts, Uo^v vain ! 

The distant train of thought I took, to shun. 

Has thrown me on my fate — these d) 'd together ; 

Happy in ruin ! undivorc'd by death ! 

Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace — 

Narcissa ! Pity bleeds at thought of thee. 

Yet thou wast only near me ; not myself. 

Survive myself? — That cures all other woe. 

Narcissa lives ; Philander is forgot. 

O, the soft commerce ! O, the tender ties, 

Close-tAvisted with the fibres of the heart ! 

Which, broken, break them ; and drain oft' the soul 

Of human joy ; and make it pain to live — 

And is it then to live .■' When such friends part, 

'Tisthe survivor dies — Mv heart ! no move. 



PREFACE 



TO NIGHT SIXTH. 



Few ages have been deeper in dispute about Re- 
iigion than this. The dispute about Rejigion, and 
the practice of it, seldom go together. Tlie shorter, 
therefore, the dispute, thebetter. I think it may be 
reduced to this single question, Is man immortal, or 
Is he not? If he is not, all our disputes are mere 
amusements, or trials of skill. In tliis case, tricth, 
reason, religion, which ^ve our discourses such 
liomp and solemnity, are (as Avill be shewn) mere 
empty sounds, without any meaning in them. But, 
if man is immwtal, it will behove him to be veiy 
serious about eternal consequences : ox', in other 
words, to be truly religious. And this great funda- 
mental truth, unestablished, or unawakened in the 
minds of men, is, I conceive, the real source and sup- 
port of all our infidelity ; how remote soever the 
jiarticular objections advanced may seem to be 
from it. 

Sensible appearances affect most men, much more 
than abstract reasonings ,- and -vve daily see bodies 
drop around us, but the sonl is innsible. The pOM'- 
er whicli inclinatio7i has over the nidgment, is great- 
er than can be well coiiceived by "those that have not 
had an experience of it ; and of what numbers is it 
the sad interest, that souls should not survive ! The 
heathen world confessed, that they rather hopedy 
than firmly believed, immortality! and how many- 
heathens have we still amongst us ! The sacred page 
pssm-es us, that life and immortality are brought to 
light by the gcopel ; But by how manv is the gospel 



123 PREFACE. 

rejected, or overlooked ! From these considerations, 
and from my being, accidentally, priAy to the senti- 
ments of some particular persons, I have been long 
pei'suaded, that most, if not all, our Infidels (what- 
ever name they take, and whatever scheme, for ar- 
gument's sake, and to keep themselves in counte- 
nance, they patronize) are supported in their de- 
plorable error, by some doubt of their immortality, 
at the bottom. And I am satisfied, that men once 
thoroughly convinced of their immortality, are not 
far from being Christians. For it is hard to conceive, 
that a man fully conscious eternal pain or happiness 
will cei'tainly be his lot, should not earnestly, and im- 
partially, inquire after the surest means of escaping 
the one, and securing the other : and of such an 
earnest and impartial inquiry, I Avell know the con- 
sequence. 

Here, therefore, in proof of this most fundamen- 
tal truth, some plain arguments are offered ; argu- 
ments derived from principles which infidels admit 
in common with believers ; arguments, which appear 
to me altogether irresistible ; and such as, I am satis- 
fied, will have gi-eat weight Avith all, who give them- 
selves the small trouble of looking seriously into 
their own bosoms, and of obsei'ving, Avith any tole- 
rable degi'ee of attention, Avhat daily passes round 
about them in the world. If some arguments shall, 
here^ occur, which others have declined, they are 
submitted, Avith all deference, to better judgments 
in this, of all points, the most important. For, as to 
the being of a God, that is no longer disputed ; but 
it is undisputed for this reason only ; viz. Because, 
where the least pretence to reason is admitted, it 
must for ever be indisputable. And, of consequence, 
no man can be betrayed into a dispute of that nature, 
by vanity, Avhich has a principal share in animating 
<r)ur modtrn combatants against other articles of our 
telief. 



THE 

COMPLAINT. 

* NIGHT SIXTH. 

THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 

IN TWO PARTS. 

Containipg the Nature, Proof, and Importance of Immortality. 

PART I. 

Where, among otlier things, Glory and Riches are particu- 
larly considered. 

To the Right Honourable Heury Pelham. 



She * (for I know not yet her name in Heav'n) 
Not early, like Narcissa, left the scene ; 
Nor sudden, like Phila:m)ER. What avail ? 
This seeming mitigation but inflames ; 
This fancy'd med'cine heightens the disease. 
The longer known, ttie closer still she grew j 
And gi-adual parting is a gradual death. 
'Tis the grim tyrant's engine, which extorts 
By tardy pressure's still-increasing weight, 
From hardest hearts, confession of distress. 

O the long, dark approach, through years of pain, 

• Referring to Night FiftJi. 



124 THE COMPLAINT. 

Death's gallery ! (might I dare to call it so,) 

With dismal doubt, and sable terror, hung ; 

Sick hope^s pale lamp, its only glimm'ring i-ay : 

There, fate my melaneholy walk ortlain'd. 

Forbid self-love itself to flatter, thei^e. 

How oft 1 gaz'd, prophetically sad ! 

How oft I saw her dead, while yet in smiles ! 

In smiles she sunk her grief, to lessen 7ni7ie. 

She spoke me comfort, and inereas'd my pain. 

Like pow'rful armies trenching at a town, 

By slow, and silent, but resistless sap. 

In Iiis pale progress gently gaining ground. 

Death ui'g'd his deadly siege in spite of art, 

Of all the balmy blessings Nature lends 

To succour frail humanity. Ye stars ! 

(Not now first made familiar to my sight,) 

And thou, O Moon ! bear witness ; many a night 

He tore the pillow from beneath my head, 

Ty'd down my sore attention to the shock. 

By ceaseless depredations on a life 

Dearer than that he left me. Dreadful post 

Of observation ! darker ev'iy hour ! 

Less dread the day that drove me to tlie brink. 

And pointed at eternity below ; 

When my soul shudder'd at futurity ; 

When, on a moment's point, tV important dye 

Of life and death spun doubtful, ere it fell, 

And turn'd up life ; my title to more Avoe. 

But why more woe P More comfort let it be. 
Nothing is dead, but that which -^ish'd to die ; 
Nothing is dead, but xvretchedness and pahi ; 
Nothing is dead, but what incumber'd, gall'd, 
Block'd up the pass, and barr'd from veal life. 
Where dwells that Avish most ardent of the wise ! 
Too dark the sun to see it ; highest stars, 
Too low to reach it ; death, great death alone. 
O'er stars and sun, triumphant, lands us there. 
Nor dreadful oiu- transition ; though the mind. 
An artist at creating self-alarms. 
Rich in expedients for inquietude, 
Is pi-one to paint it dreadful. Who can take 



NIGHT SIXTH. 125 

Death'' s poi-trait true ? The tyrant never sat. 
Our sketch all random strokes, conjecture all ; 
Close shuts the grave, nor tells one single tale. 
Death, and his image rising in tlie brain, 
Bear faint resemblance ; never are alike ; 
Fear shakes the pencil ; fancy loves excess ; 
Dark igiionmce, is lavish of her shades : 
And tJiesne the formidable picture draw. 

But gi-ant the worst; 'tis past; new prospects 
rise ; 
And drop a veil eternal o'er her tomb. 
Far other views our contemplation claim ; 
Views that o'erpay the rigours of our life ; 
VieiDs that suspend our agonies in death. 
Wrap'd in the thought of immortality, 
Wrap'd in the single, the triumptiant thought ! 
Long life might lapse, age unperceiv'd come on ; 
And find the soul unsated Avith her theme. 
Its nature, proof, importa^ice, fire iny song. 
O that my song could emulate my soul ! 
Like her, iminortal. No ! — the soul disdains 
A mark so mean ; far nobler hope inflames ; 
If endless ages can outweigh an hour. 
Let not the laurel, but the palm, inspire. 

Thy JVature, immortality ! who knows ? 
And yet who knoMS it not ! It is but life 
In stronger thread of brighter colour spun. 
And spun for ever ; dip'd by cruel fate 
In Stygian dye, how black, how brittle here f 
Ho)v sliort our correspor^dence with the sun ! 
And while it lasts, inglorious ! Our best deeds. 
How Av^anting in their weight ! Our highest joy^ 
Small cordials to support us in our pain. 
And give us strength to sufltr. But how great 
To mingle int'rests, converse, amities. 
With all the sons of reason, scatter'd wide 
Through habitable space, wherever born, 
Howe'er endow'd ! To live free citizens 
Of universal Nature ; to lay hold 
By more than feeble /azY^, t)n the S^ipreme f 
To call Heav'u's r<ch imfathomable miues 



Ii6 THE COlVrPLAINT. 

(Mines, ■which support archangels in their state,) 

Our own ! to rise in science, as in bliss, 

Initiate in the secret* of the skies ! 

To read creation ; read its mighty plan 

In the bare bosom of the Deity ! 

The plan, and execution, to collate ! 

To see, before each glance of piercing thought. 

All cloud, all shadow, blown remote ; and leave 

No mystery — ^but that of love divine. 

Which lifts us on the seraph's flaming wing. 

From earth's aceldayna^ this field of blood, 

Of inward anguish, and of outward ill. 

From darkness, and from dust, to s^tch a scene \ 

Love's element ! true joy's illustrious home ! 

From earth's sad contrast (now deplor'd,) more fair ! 

AVhat exquisite vicissitude of fate ! 

Bless'd absolution of our blackest hour ! 

LoREjf zo, these are thoughts that make man, manj 
The wise illumine, aggi'andize the gi'eat. 
How great (while yet we tread the kindred clod, 
And ev'ry moment fear to sink beneath 
The clod we tread ; soon trodden by our sons,) 
How great, in the wild whirl of time's pursuits. 
To stop, and pause, involv'd in high presage. 
Through the long vista of a thousand years. 
To stand contemplating our distant selves. 
As in a magnifying mirror seen, 
Enlarg'd, ennobled, elevate, divine ! 
To prophesy our own futurities ! 
To gaze in thought on what all thought transcends ? 
To talk, with fellow-candidates, of joys 
As far beyond conception, as desert, 
Ourselves' th' astonish 'd talkers, and the tale ! 

LoBEirzo, swells thy bosom at the thought ? 
The swell becomes thee : 'tis an honest pride. 
Revere thyself; and yet thyself despise. 
His nature no man can o'er-rate ; and none 
Can under-rate his merit. Take good heed, 
Nor there be modest, where thou shouldst be proud ; 
That almost universal error shun. 
How just our pride, when we behold those heights. 



NIGHT SIXTH. 127 

Not those ambition paints in air, but those 
Season points out, and ardent virtue gains ; 
And angels emulate ; our pride how just ! 
When mount we ? ^Vhen these chackles cast ? When 

quit 
This cell of the creation ? This small nest. 
Stuck in a corner of the universe, 
Wrap'd up in fleecy cloud, and fine-spun air ? 
Fine-spiin to sense ; but gross and feculent 
To souls celestial ; souls ordain'd to breathe 
Ambrosial gales, and drink a purer sky ; 
Greatly triumphant on ti7ne's fartlier shore. 
Where virtue reigns, enrich'd v ith full ai-reai^ ; 
While pomp imperial l>egs an alms of peace. 

In empire high, or in proud science deep, 
Ye born of earth ! on what can you confer, 
With half the dignity, with half the gain. 
The gust, the gloAv of rational delight. 
As on tins theme, which angels praise and share ? 
]Man's fates and favours are a theme in Heav'n. 

What wretched repetition cloys us here \ 
What periodic potions for the sick ! 
Distemper'd bodies ! and distemper'd minds ! 
In an etermty, Avhat scenes shall strike ! 
Adventures thicken ! Novelties surprise ! 
What webs of wonder shall unravel tliere ! 
What full day pour on all the paths of Heav'n, 
And light th' Almighty's footsteps in the deep ! 
How shall the blessed day of our discharge 
Unwind, at once, the labyrinths of fate, 
And sti'aighten its inextricable maze ! 

If inextinguishable tliirst in man 
To know ; how rich, how full, our banquet there ! 
Tlvevt^ not the moral world alone unfolds : 
The world material lately seen in shades. 
And, in those shades, by fragments only seen. 
And seen those fragments by the laVring eye. 
Unbroken, then, illustrious and entire. 
Its ample sphere, its universal frame. 
In full dimensions, swells to the sm'vey ; 
And enters, at one glance, the ravish'd sight- 



128 THE COMPLAINT. 

From some superior point (where, who can tell ? 

Suflice it, 'tis a point where gods reside) 

How shall the stranger man's illurain'd eye. 

In the vast ocean of unbounded space. 

Behold an infinite of floating worlds 

Divide the crystal waves of ether pure, « 

In endless voyage, without port ! The least 

Of these disseminated orbs, how great ! 

Gi-eat as they are, w hat numbers these surpass, 

Huge, as Leviathan^ to that small race. 

Those twinkling midtitudes of little life. 

He swallows unperceiv'd ! Stupendons these ! 

Yet what are these stupendous to the ivhole P 

As particles, as atoms ill-perceiv'd ; 

As circulating globules in our veins ; 

So vast the plan ! Fecundity divine ! 

Exub'rant source ! perhaps I wrong thee still. 

If admiration is a source of joy. 
What transport hence ! Yet this the least in Heav'n. 
What this to that illustrious robe lie wears. 
Who toss'd tliis mass of wonders from Ids hand, 
A specimen, an earnest, of his pow'r ? 
'Tis to that glory, whence all glory flows, 
As the mead's meanest flow'ret to the sun, 
Which gave it birth. But what, this sun of Heav'n ? 
This bliss supreme of the supremely bless'd ? 
Death, only death, the question can resolve. 
By death, cheap-bought th' ideas of our joy ; 
The bare ideas ! soliil happiness 
So distant from its shadow chas'd below. 

And chase we still the phantom through the fire. 
O'er bog, and brake, and precipice, till' death I 
And toil we still for sublunary pay ? ^ 

Defy the dangers of the field and flood. 
Or spider-like, spin out our precious all. 
Our more than vitals spin (if no regard 
To great futurity,) in curious webs 
Of subtle thought, and exquisite design ; 
fFine net- work of the brain !) to catch a Fbj ! 
The momentary buz of vain renown ! 
A name ! a mortal immortality '. 



NIGHT SIXTH. 120 

Oi- (meaner still !) instead of gi-asping air. 
For sordid lucre plunge we in the mire ? 
Drudge, sweat, through ev'ry shame, for ev'ry gain, 
For vile contaminating trash ; throw up 
Oui- hope in Heav'n, our dignity with man ? 
And deify the dirt, matur'd to gold ? 
AinbitioJif av'rice ; the two dcemoiis these, 
Which goad through ev'ry slough our human herd, 
Hard-travell'd from the cradle to the gi'ave. 
How low the wretches stoop ! How steep they climb ! 
These cLemons burn mankind ; but most possess 
Lorenzo's bosom, and turn out the skies. 

Is it in time to hide eternity ? 
And why not in an atom on the shore. 
To cover ocean ? or a mote, the sun ? 
Glo}y and -zuealt/i ! have they this blinding pOAv'r ? 
What if to tliem I pro\e LoKEJfzo blind ? 
Would it surprise thee ? be thou then surpris'd ; 
Thou neither know'st : Their natm'e learn from me. 

Mark well, as foreign as these subjects seem, 
What close connection ties them to my theme. 
First, what is true ambition ? The pursuit 
Of glory, nothing less than man can share. 
Were they as vain as giuidy -minded man. 
As flatulent with fumes of self-applause, 
Their arts and conqhests, animals might boast. 
And claim their laurel crowns, as well as we ; 
But not celestial. Here we stand alone ; 
As in our form, distinct, pre-eminent ; 
If prone in thought, our stature is our shame ; 
And man should blush, his forehead meets the ski 
The visible and present are for brutes, 
A slender portion and a narrow bound ! 
These, reason, with ai^ energy divine, 
O'erleaps; and claims ihe future and vnseen f 
The vast unseen ! the futm-e fathomless ! 
When the gi'eat soul buoys up to this high pointy 
Leaving gi'oss JVature^s sediments below. 
Then, and then only, .idain's offspring quits 
The sage and hero of the fields and woods. 
Asserts his rank, and rises into nian. 
f2 



130 THE COMPLAINT. 

This is ambition : This is human fire. 

Can parts or place (two bold pretenders !) make 
LoHENZo gi-eat, and pluck him from the throng ? 

Genins and arty ambition's boasted wings. 
Our boast but ill deserve. A feeble aid ! 
Dedalian engin'rj ! If these alone 
Assist our flight, fame's flight is glory^s fall. 
^a?'^-merlt wanting, mount we ne'er so high. 
Our height is but the ^bbet of our name, 
A celebrated Avretch when I behold. 
When I behold a genius bright, and base. 
Of tow'ring talents, aiid terrestrial aims ; 
Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, 
The glorious fragments of a soul immortal. 
With rubbish mix'd, and glitt'ring in the dust. 
Sti-uck at the splendid, melancholy sight ! 
At once Compassion soft, and e)ivy, rise — 
But whei'efore envy ? Talents, angel bright, 
if wanting worth, are shining instruments 
In false ambition's hand, to finish faults 

Illustrious, and give infamy renown. 

Great ill is an acliievement of gi'eat poiv'rs. 
Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray. 

■Reason the means, affections choose our end ; 

Means have no merit, if our end amiss. 

If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain ; 

What is a Pklham's head, to Pelham's heart r 

Hearts are pi'Oprietors of all applause. 

Right ends, and means, make wisdom : Woi'ldly-wise 

Js but Aa{/'-Hitted, at its highest praise. 

luGt genins then, despair to make thee gi-eat ; 

!Nor flatter station : What is station high ? 

^Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts, and begs ; 

It begs an alms of homage from tlie throng. 

And oft the throng denies its charity. 

Monarchs, and ministers, are awful names ; 

W^hoever wear them, challenge our devoir. 

Religion, public order, both exact 

External homage, and a supple knee. 

To beings pompously set up, to serve 

The meanest slavo ; nU more is merit's dtie. 



NIGHT SIXTH. 131 

Her sacred and inviolable right ; 

Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man. 

Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior ivorth ; 

Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. 

Fools, indeed, drop the ma7i in their account, 

And vote the mantle into majesty. 

Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; 

His royaj robe unborrow'd, and unbought, 

His oion, descending fairly from his sires. 

Shall man be proud to wear his liveiy. 

And souls in ermine scorn a soul Mithout ? 

Can place^ or lessen us, or aggrandize ? 

Pigmies are pigmies still, though perch'd on alps ; 

And pyramids are pyramids in vales. 

Each man makes his own stature, builds himself; 

Virtue alone out-builds the pyramids ; 

Her monuments shall last, Avhen Egypt's fall. 

Of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause ? 
The cause is lodg'd in immortality. 
Hear, and assent. Thy bosom burns for pow'r ; 
What station cliarms thee ? I'll instal thee there ; 
'Tis thine. And art thou gi-eater than before ? 
Then thou before wast something less than man. 
Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? 
That treach'rous pride betrays thy dignity ; 
That pride defames humanity, and calls 
The being mean, which staffs or strings can raise. 
That pride, like hooded hav/ks, in darkness soars, 
Fi'om blindness bold, and tow'ring to the skies. 
'Tis born of Ignorance, which knows not Man : 
An angel's second ; nor his second, long. 
vV Neho quitting his imperial throne. 
And courting Glory from the tinkling sti'ing. 
But faintly shadoAvs an immortal soul. 
With Empire's self, to pride, or rapture, fir'd. 
If nobler motives minister no cure, 
Ev'n vanity forbids tliee to be vain. 

High worth is elevated place : 'Tis more ; 
It makes the post stand candidate for thee ; 
IMakes moi-e than monarchs ; makes an honest ra«n j 
Though no excJteqner it commawls, 'tis loealth ,« 



132 THE COMPLAINT. 

And though it wears no ribband^ 'tis renoion ; 
Renown, tliat Avould not quit thee, though disgracM, 
Nor leave thee pendent on a master's smile. 
Other ambition nature interdicts ; 
Natui'e proclaims it most absurd in man, 
By pointing at his origin, and end ; 
Milk and a swathe, at first, his whole demand ; 
His whole domain, at last, a turf or stone ; 
To whom, betwee?!, a world may seem too small- 
Souls truly gi-eat, dart forward on the wing 
0£just ambition, to the grand result. 
The curtain's fall; there, see the buskin'd chief 
Unshod behind this momentary scene, 
Reduc'd to his own stature, low or high. 
As vice, or virtue, sinks him, or sublimes ; 
And laugh at this fantastic mummery. 
This antic prelude of grotesque events. 
Where dwarfs are often stilted, and betray 
A littleness of soul by worlds o'er-run. 
And natipns laid in biood. Dread sacrifice 
To Christian pi-ide ! which had with horror shock'd 
The darkest Pagans, offer'd to their gods. 

O thou most christian enemy to peace ! 
Again in arms ? Again provoking fate ? 
That prince, and that alone, is truly great. 
Who draws the SAvord reluctant, gladly sheaths ; 
On empire builds what empire far outweighs. 
And makes his throne a scaffold to the skies. 

Why this so rare ? Because forgot of all 
The day of death ; that venerable day. 
Which sits as judge ; that day, which shall pronounce 
On all our days, absolve them, or condemn. * 

LoREKZo, never shut thy thought against it ; 
Be levees ne'er so full, afford it room. 
And give it audience in the cabinet. 
That friend consulted, (flatteries apart) 
Will tell thee fair, if thou art gi'eat or mean. 
To doat on aught may leave us, or be left. 
Is that amh Hon"? Then let flames descend^ 
Point to ' entre their ii^verted spires. 
And k filiation from a soul. 



NIGHT SIXTH. 13Si 

Which boasts her lineage from celestial fire. 
Yet these are they, the world pronounces wise ; 
The world, which cancels Nature's right and wrong, 
And casts nerv wisdom : EV'n the grave man lends 
His solemn face to countenance the coin. 
Wisdom for parts is madness for the whole. 
This stamps the paradox, and gives us leave 
To call the wisest weak, the richest poor. 
The most ambitious, unambitious, mean ; 
In triumph, mean ; and abject, on a throne. 
Nothing can make it less than mad in man, 
To put forth all his ardour, all his aii:, 
Aud give his soul her full unbounded flight. 
But reaching him, who gave her wings to fly. 
When blind ambition quite mistakes her road, 
And downward pores, for that which shines abo^'e. 
Substantial happiness, and true renown ; 
Then, like an idiot gazing on the brook. 
We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud ; 
At glory grasp, and sink in infamy. 

Ambition ! pow*rful source of good and ill ! 
Thy strength in man, like length of wing in bii'ds, 
When disengag'd from earth, with greater ease, 
And swifter flight, transports us to the skies ; 
By toys entangled, or in guilt bemir'd. 
It turns a cm'se ; it is our chain, and scoui'ge, 
In this dark dungeon, where confin'd we lie, 
Close-gi-ated by the sordid bars of sense ; 
All prospect of eternity shut out ; 
And, but for execution, ne'er set free. 

With error in ambition justly charg'd. 
Find we Lorenzo wiser in his wealth ? 
What if thy rental I reform ? and draw 
An inventoi-y new to set thee right ? 
Wliere, thy true treasure ? Gold says, *' Not in me .*'* 
And, " Not in me," the diamond. Gold is poor ; 
Indians insolvent : Seek it in thyself. 
Seek in thy naked self, and find it there ; 
In being so descended, form'd, endow'd ; 
Sky-born, sky-gijided, sky -returning i*ace ! 
Erept, immortal, rational, divine ! 



134 THE COMPLAINT. 

In senses, which inherit earth, and Heav'ns ; 

Enjoy the various riches J\7itu7^e yields ; 

Far nobler ; give the riches they enjoy ; 

Give taste to fruits, and harmony to groves ; 

Their radiant beams to gold, and gold's bright sire : 

Take in, at once, the landscape of the world. 

At a small inlet, which a grain might close. 

And half create the wondrous world they see. 

Our senses, as our reason, are divine. 

But for the mag^c organ's pow'rful charm. 

Earth were a rude, uncolour'd chaos, still. 

Objects are but th' occasion ; our's th' exploit ; 

Our's is the cloth, the pencil, and the paint. 

Which Nature's admirable picture draws ; 

And beautifies creation's ample dome. 

Like JMilton^s Eve, when gazing on the lake, 

Man makes the matchless image, man admires. 

Say then. Shall man, his thoughts all sent abroad 

(Superior wonders in himself forgot,) 

His admiration waste on objects round. 

When Heav'n makes him the soul of all he sees ? 

Absurd ! not rare ! so great, so mean, is man. 

What wealth in senses such as these ! What wealth 
In fancy, fir'd to form a fairer scene 
Than sense surveys ! In mem^ry^s firm record. 
Which, should it perish, could this world recall 
From the dark shadows of o'erwhelming years ! 
In colom's fresh, originally bright. 
Preserve its porti"^it, and report its fate ! 
What wealth in intellect, that sov'reign poAv'r ! 
Which sense, and fancy, summons to the bar ; 
Interrogates, approves, or reprehends ; 
And from the mass those nnderlings import. 
From their materials sifted, and refin'J, 
And in truth's balance accurately weigh'd. 
Forms art and science, government and hvw , 
The solid basis, and the beauteous frame. 
The vitab, and the grace of civil life ! 
And manners (sad exception '.) set aside. 
Strikes out, with master-hand, a copy fail' 
Of his idea, whose indulgent thought. 
Long, long, ere chaos teera'd, plannM human bliss. 



NIGHT SIXTH. 135 

What %vealth in souls that soar, dive, range around, 
Disdaining limit, or from place, or time ; 
And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear 
Til' Almighty ./fa;', and the tntmpet^s sotind .' 
Bold, on creation's outside walk, and view 
What was, and is, and more than e'er shall be ; 
Commanding, with Omnipotence of thought, 
Creatiori% new in fancy's field to rise ! 
Souls, that can grasp whate'er th' Almighty mBde, 
And Avandcr Avihl through things impossible ! 
What ivealth, m faadties of endless growth, 
In quenchless passions Aiolent to crave, , 
In liberty to clioosc, in potd'r to reach. 
And in duration (how thy riches rise !^ 
Duration to perpetuate ^Ijoundless bliss ! 

Ask you, what poiv^r resides in feeble man 
That bliss to gain ? Is virtue^s then, unknown ? 
Virtue, our present peace, our future prize. 
Man's unprecai'ious, nataral estate, 
Impi'ovable at will, in virtue lies ; 
Its tenure sure ; its income is divine. 

High-built abundance, heap on heap ! for wh^t ? 
To breed new wants and beggar us the more ; 
Then, make a I'icher scramble for the throng. 
Soon as this feeble pulse, which leaps so long 
Almost by miracle, is tii''d Avith play. 
Like rubbish from disploding engines thrown, 
Our magazines of hoarded trifles fly ; 
Fly diverse ; fly to foreigners, to foes ; 
Nev.- masters court, and call the former, fool, 
(How justly !) for dependence on their stay. 
Wide scattei", first, our play-things ; then, our dust. 

Dost thou court abundance for the sake of peace ? 
Learn, and lament thy self-defeated scheme : 
Jliches enable to be richer still ; 
And, richer still, what moi-tal can resist .'' 
Thus wealth (a cruel task master !) enjoins 
New toils, succeeding toils, an endless train ! 
And murders peace, which taught it first to shine. 
TJie poor are half as wretched as the rich ; 
Whose px'oud and painful privilege it isj 



136 THE COMPLAINl. 

At once, to bear a double load of woe ; 
To feel the stings of envy^ and of nvantt 
Outrageous want! both Indies cannot cure. 

A competence is vital to content. 
Much wealth is corpulence, if not disease ; 
Sick, or encumber'd, is our happiness. 
A competence is all we can enjoy. 
O be content, where heav'n can give no more 1 
JMore^ like a flash of water from a lock, 
Quickens our spirit's movement for an hour ; 
But soon its force is spent, nor rise our joys 
Above our native temper's common stream. 
Hence disappointment lurks in ev'ry prize. 
As bees in flow'rs ; and stings us with success. 

The rich man, who denies it, proudly feigns ; 
Nor knows the wise are priAy to the lie. 
Much learning shews how little mortals know ; 
Much wealth, how little worldings can enjoy ; 
At best, it babies us with endless toys. 
And keeps us children till we drop to dust. 
As monkeys at a mirror stand amaz'd. 
They fail to find, Avhat they so plainly see ; 
Thus men, in shining riches, see the face 
Of Happiness, nor know it is a shade ; 
But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep again, 
And wish, and wonder it is absent still. 

How few can rescue opulence from want ! 
Who lives to JWiture, rai'ely can be poor ; 
Who lives to Fancy, never can be rich. 
Poor is the man in debt ; the man of gold, 
In del)t to Fortime, trembles at her pow'r. 
The man of Reason smiles at her, and death. 
O what a patrimony this ! A being- 
Of such inherent strength and majesty. 
Not worlds possess'd can raise it ; m orlds destroy'd 
Can't injure ; which holds on its glorious course. 
When thine, O J\''atnre ! ends ; too bless'd to mourn 
Creation's obsequies. What treasure, this ! 
The monarch is a beggar to the man. 

Immortal ! Ages past, yet nothing gone ! 
Mom, without eve ! a race, without a goal ! - 



NIGHT SIXTH. 137 

Unshorten'd by progression infinite ! 
Futurity for ever future ! Life 
Beginning still, where computation ends ! 
'Tis the description of a Deity ! 
'Tis the description of the meanest slave ; 
The meanest slave dares then Lorexzo scorn ? 
The meanest slave thy sovereign glory shares. 
Proud Youth ! fastidious of the loiver world ! 
Man's laivful pride includes humility ; 
Stoops to the lowest ; is too g^-eat to find 
Inferiors ; all immortal ! Brothers all ! 
Proprietors eteimal of thy love. 

Immortal ' What can strike the sense ho strong. 
As this the soul ? It thundei's to the thought ; 
Reason amazes ; gratitude o'erwhelms ; 
No more Ave slumber on the brink of fate ; 
Rous'd at the sound, th' exulting soul ascends, 
And breathes her native air ; an air that feeds 
Ambitions high, and fans ethereal fires ; 
Quick-kindles all that is divine withm us ; 
Nor leaves one loit'ring thought beneath the stars. 

Has not Lorenzo's bosom caught the flame ? 
Immortal ! Were but one immortal, how 
Would others envy ! How would thrones adore ! 
Because 'tis common, is the blessing lost ? 
How tlus ties up the bounteous hand of Heav'n ! 
O vain, vain, vain, all else ! — Etenrity f 
A glorious, and a needful refuge, thatf 
From vile imprisonment in abject views. 
'Tis immortalityy 'tis that alone. 
Amid life's pains, abasemetits, emptiness. 
The soul can cornfort, elevate, and ^11. 
That orily, and that amply, this performs ; 
Lifts us above life's pains, her joys above ; 
Their terror those ,- and these theii* lustre lose ; 
Eternity depending, covers all ; 
Eternity depending, all achieves ; 
Sets earth at distance ; casts her into shades ; 
Blends her distinctions ; abrogates her pow 'rs ; 
The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe, 
Fortune's dread frowns, und fascinating smiles. 



138 THE COMPLAINT. 

Make one promiscuous and neglected heap, 
The mail beneath ; if I may call him man. 
Whom immortality^B full force inspires.. 
Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought ; 
Suns shine unseen, and thunders roll unheard. 
By minds quite conscious of their high descent. 
Their present province, and their futiu'e prize ; 
Divinely darting upward ev'ry wish, 
Warm on the wing, in glorious absence lost. 

Doubt you this truth ? Why labours your belief ? 
If earth's whole orb, by some due-distanc'd eye 
Were seen at once, her tow'ring alps would sink. 
And level'd ^diias leave an even sphere. 
Thus earth, and all that earthly minds admire, 
Is swallow'd in eternity's vast round. 
To that stupendous view, when souls awake. 
So large ofjj_late, so mountainous to man, 
Time's toys subside ; and equal all below. 

Enthusiastic, this ? Then all are weak. 
But rank enthusiasts. To this godlike height 
Some souls have soar'd ; or martyrs ne'er had bled. 
And all may do, what has by ma7i been done. 
Who, beaten by these sublunaiy storms. 
Boundless, intemninable joys can weigh, 
Unraptur'd, unexaited, uninflam'd ? 
What slave nnblest, who from to-morrow's dawn 
Expects an empire ? He forgets his chain. 
And, thron'd in thought, his absent sceptre waves. 

And what a sceptre waits us ! what a throne ! 
Her own immense appointments to compute. 
Or comprehend her high prerogatives ! 
In this her dark minority, how toils. 
How vainly pants, the human soul divine ! 
Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy : 
What heai-t but trembles at so strange a bliss 1 

In spite of all the truths the muse has sung. 
Truths touching ! marvellous ] and full of Heav'n ! 
Ne'er to be priz'd enough ! enough revolv'ri ! 
Are there who wrap the world so close about them, 
They see no farther than the clouds ? and dance 
On heedless vanity's fantastic toe. 



NIfiHT SIXTH. 139 

'Till, stumbling at a stra\r, in their career. 
Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and 

song ? 
Are there Lobexzo ? Is it possible ? 
Are there on eai-th (let me not call them men) 
Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts ; 
Unconscious as the mountain of its ore ; 
Or rock, of its inestimable gem i^ 
When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these 
Shall know their treasure ; treasure, then, no more. 

Are there (still more araazuig!) who resist 
The rising thought ? Who smother, in its birth. 
The glorious tnith ? Who struggle to be bi^Ues ? 
Who through this bosom-baiTier burst their way ; 
And, with revers'd ambition, strive to sink ? 
Who labour downwards through th' opposing pow'rs 
Of instinct, reason, and the world against them. 
To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 
Of endless night ? Night darker than the grave's ! 
Who fight the proofs of immortality ? 
With horrid zeal, and execrable aits, 
Work all their engines, level their black fires. 
To blot from man this attribute divine, 
(Than vital blood far dearer to the wise) 
Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves ? 

To contradict them, see all Nature rise ! 
What object, what event, the moon beneath, 
But argues, or endears, an after scene ? 
To reason proves, or weds it to desire ? 
All things proclaim it needful ; some advance 
One precious step beyond, and prove it stire. 
A thousaiid arguments SAvarm round my pen. 
From Heav'tiy and earthy and man. Indulge a few, 
By Nature, as her comtnori habit, worn ; 
So prefsing- Providence a truth to teach. 
Which truth untaught, all other truths Avere vain. 

THOU ! Avhose all-proAidential eye surveys. 
Whose hand directs, whose spirit fills and warms 
Creation, and holds empire far beyond ! 
Eternity's inhabitant august ! 
Of two eternities amazing Lord ! 



140 THE COMPLAINT. 

One past, ex'e man's or angel's, had begun ; 

Aid ! while I rescue from the foe's assault 

Thy gloi'ious immortality in man : 

A theme for ever, aiid for all, of weight, 

Of moment infinite ! but relish'd most 

By those who love thee most, who most adore. 

JVahire, thy daughter, ever-changing bu"th 
Of Thee the great Iimmitable, to man 
Speaks wisdom ; is his oracle supreme ; 
And he who most consiUts her, is most wise. 
Lorenzo, to this heav'nly Delphos haste ; 
And come back all-immoi-tal ; all-divine : 
Look Nature through, 'tis revohition all ; 
All change, no death. Day follows night ; and night 
The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
Earth takes th' example. See, the summer gay. 
With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flow'rs. 
Droops into pallid autumn : Winter gi'ey. 
Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm. 
Blows autimm and his golden fruits, away : 
Then melts into the spring : Soft spHng, with breath 
Favoman, from warm chambers of the south, 
Recalls the first. All, to refiourish, fades ; 
As in a wheel, all sinks, to I'eascend. 
Emblems of man, who passes, not expires. 

With this minute distinction, emblems just, 
J\''atiire revolves, but man advances ; both 
Eternal, tJiaf a circle, this a line. 
That gi'aAitates, this soars. Th' aspiring soul 
Ardent, and tremulous, like flame, ascends ; 
Zeal, and humility, her wings to Heav'n. 
The Avorld of matter, with its various forms. 
All dies into new life. Life born from death. 
Rolls the vast mass, and shall for ever roll. 
No single atom, once in being, lost. 
With change of counsel charges the Most High. 

What hence infers Lorexzo ? Can it be ? 
Matter immortal ? And shall spirit die ? 
Above the nobler, shall less noble rise ? 
Shall man alone, for whom all else revives. 
No resurrection know ? Shall man alone. 



NIGHT SIXTH. 141 

Imperial man, be sown in barren ground, 
Less privileg'd tban grain, on Avhich he feeds ? 
Is man, in whom alone is pow'r to prize 
The bliss of being, or with previous pain 
Deplore its period, by the spleen of fate. 
Severely doom'd death" s single uuredeem'd ? 

If Nature's revohttion speaks aloud. 
In her gmdation^hci^v her louder still. 
Look Nature through, 'tis neixt gradation all. 
By what minute degi'ees her scale ascends ! 
Each middle nature join'd at each extreme. 
To that above it join'd, to that beneath. 
Parts into parts reciprocally shot. 
Abhor divorce : What love of union reigns ! 
Here, dormant matter waits a call to life ; 
Half-life, half-death, join there ; here, life and sense ; 
There, sense from reason steals a glimm'ring ray ; 
Reason shines out in man. But how preserv'd 
The chain unbroken upward, to the i-ealms 
Of incorporeal life ? Tliose realms of bliss. 
Where death hath no dominion ? Grant a make 
Half-mortal, half-immortal ; earthy, part ; 
And part ethereal ; grant the soul of man 
Eternal ; or in man the series ends. 
Wide yawns the gap ; connection is no more ; 
Check d reason halts ; her next step wants support ; 
Striving to climb, she tumbles from her scheme ; 
A scheme, analogy pronounc'd so true ; 
Analogy^ man's surest guide below. 
Thus far, all JVatiire calls on thy belief. 
And will Lorenzo, careless of the call. 
False attestation on all Natiu-e charge, 
Rather than violate his league with death ? 
Renounce his reason, rather than renounce 
The dust belov'd, and run the risk of Heav'n ? 
O, what indignity to deathless souls ! 
What treason to' the majesty of man ! 
Of man immortal ! Hear the lofty style : 
** If so decreed, th' Almighty will be' done. 
Let earth dissolve, yon pond'rous orbs descend, 
And grind us into dust ; The soul is safe ; 



142 THE COMPLAINT. 

The man emerges ; mounts above the wreck. 

As tow'ring flame from JVahire's fun'ral pyre i 

O'er devastation, as a gainer, smiles ; 

His charter, his inviolable rights. 

Well pleas'd to learn from thunder's impotence, 

Death's pointless darts, and hell's defeated storms." 

But these chimera's touch not thee, Lorenzo I 
The glories of the world, thy sev'nfold shield. 
Other ambition than of crowns in ail'. 
And superlunary felicities. 
Thy bosom Avarm. I'll cool it, if I can ; 
And turn those glories that enchant, against thee. 
What ties thee to this life, proclaims the next. 
If wise, the cause that wounds tliee is thy cure. 

Come, my ambitions ! let us mount together 
rfo mount Lorenzo never can refuse ;) 
And from the clouds, where pride delights to dwell. 
Look down on earth — What seest thou ? Wondrous 

things ! 
Terrestrial wonders that eclipse the skies. 
What lengths of labour'd lauds ! what loaded seas ! 
Loaded by man, for pleasure, wealth, or war ! 
Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought. 
His art acknowledge, and promote his ends. 
Nor can th' etei'nal rocks his will withstand ; 
What level'd mountains, and what lifted vales ! 
O'er vales and mountains sumptuous cities swell. 
And gild our landscape with their glitt'ring spires. 
Some 'mid the woud'i'ing waves majestic I'ise ; 
And J\'eptune holds a miiTor to their charms. 
Far gi-eater still ! (what cannot mortal might ?) 
See wide dominions ravish'd from the deep ! 
The naiTOAv'd deep with indignation foams. 
Or southward turn, to delicate, aw^ grand ; 
The finer arts there ripen in the sun. 
How the tall temples, as to meet their gods. 
Ascend the skies ! the proud triumphal arch 
Shews us half Heav'n beneath its ample bend. 
High thro' mid air, here, streams are taught to flow 4 
Whole rivers, there, lay'd by in basons, sleep. 
tf've, plains turn oceans ; there, vast oceans join 



NIGHT SIXTH. 143 

Thro' kingdoms channel'd deep from shore to shore ; 
And cliang'd ci'eation takes its face from man. 
Beats thy brave breast for formidable scenes, 
Where fame and empire wait upon the sword ? 
See fields in blood ; hear naval thunders rise ; 
Britaxijia's voice ! that awes the world to peace. 
How yon enormous mole projecting breaks 
The mid«ea furious a\ aves ! Tiieir roar amidst. 
Out speaks the Deity, and says, " O main ! 
Thus far, nor farther ; new restraints obey." 
Earth's discmbowel'd ! measur'd are the skies ? 
Stars are detected in their deep recess ! 
Creation widens ! vanquish 'd J\''atiire yields ! 
Her secrets are extorted ; Art prevails '. 
AVhat monument of genius, spirit, pow'r ! 

And now, Lorexzo ! raptur'd at this scene, 
Whose glories render Heav'n superfluous ? say. 
Whose footsteps these !■ — Immortals have been here. 
Could less than souls immoital this have done ? 
Eai'th's cover'd o'er with proofs of souls immortal ; 
And proofs of immortality _/b?"^-oif. 

To flatter tliy grand foible, I confess, 
These are ambition^s works : and these are gi'eat : 
But thisy the least immortal souls can do ; 
Transcend them all. — Bat what can these transcend ? 
Dost ask me, what ? — One sigh for the distressed. 
What then for infidels ? A deeper sigh. 
'Tis moral grandeur makes the mighty man : 
How little they, who think aught great below '. 
All our ambitions death defeats, but one ; 
And that it crowns.— Here cease we : But, ere long. 
More pow'rtul j!>roo/ shall take the field against thee. 
Stronger tlian death, and smiling at the tomb. 



PREFACE 



TO NIGHT SEVENTH. 



-A.S we arc at war with the power, it were well if 
Ave were at war with the manners, of France. A 
land of levity, is a land of guilt. A serious mind is 
the native soi! of everj'^ virtue, and the single cha- 
racter that does true honour to mankind. The sovVs 
immortality has been the favourite tlieme with the 
serious of all ages. Nor is it strange ; it is a subject 
by far the most interesting, and important, that can 
enter the niind of man. Of highest moment this 
subject always wcs, and always i.vill be. Yet this its 
highest moment seems to admit of increase^ at this 
day ; a sort of occasional importance is superadded 
to the natural Aveight of it ; if tliat opinion, a\ hich is 
advanced in the preface to the preceding JS'isi'ht, be 
just. It is there supposed, that all our Infidels^ 
whatever scheme, for argument's sake, and to keep 
themselves in countenance, they patronize, are be- 
trayed into their deplorable error, by some doubt of 
their immortality, at the bottom. And tiie more I 
consider this point, the more I am persuaded of the 
truth of that opinion. Though the distrust of a fu' 
turity is a strange error ; yet it is an error into 
which had men may naturally be distressed. For 
it is impossible to bid defiance to final ruin, without 
some refuge in imagination, some presumption of es- 
cape. And what presumption is there ? There ai-e 
but two in natui-e ; but two Avithin the compass of 
human thought. And these are, — That eitlier God 
idll not, or can not, punish. Considering the Divine 
attributes, X}ixG. first is too gross to be digested by o'v 
G 



146 PREFACE. 

strongest wishes. And, since Omnipotence ie fts 
ini*ch a Divine attribute as Holiness, that God can 
not punisli, is as absurd a supposition as the former. 
Gob certainly can punish, as long as wicked men ex- 
ist In non-existence, therefore, is their only re- 
fuge ; and, consequently, non-existence is their 
strongest wish. And strong Avishes have a strange 
influence on our opinions; tliey bias the. judgment in 
a manner ahnost incredible. And since on this 
member of their alternative, there are some veiy 
small appearances in their favour, and none at all 
on the other, they catch at this reed, they lay 
hold on this chimera, to save themselves fi«om the 
shock and horror of an immediate and absolute de- 
spair. 

On reviev/ing my subject, by the light Avhich this 
argument, and others of like tendency, threw upon 
it, I was more inclined than ever to pursue it, as it 
appeared to me to strike directly at the main root of 
all our infidelity. In the following pages, it is, ac- 
cordingly, pursued at large ; and some arguments 
for imi)iortality, new (at least to me,) are ventured 
on, in them. Tiiere also the writer has made an at- 
tempt to set the gi'oss absurdities and hori-ors of an- 
nihilaiion in a fuller and more affecting vieWj than 
is, (I think) to be met witli elsewhere. 

The gentlemen, for m hose sake this attempt Avas 
chiefly made, profess great admu'ation for the wis* 
dom of Heatheii antiquity : What pity it is tliey are 
not sincere ! If they were sincere, hoAV Avould it 
mortify them to consider, with Avhat contempt and 
abhoirence, their notions would have been received 
by those v.hom they so much admire ? What de- 
gree of contempt raid abhorrence would fall to their 
share, may be conjectured by the following matter of 
fact (in my opinion) extremely memorable. Of all 
their Heathen w orthies, Socrates (it is -v, ell known) 
was the most guarded, dispassionate, and composed : 
Yet this great master of temper Avas angiy ! and an- 
l^y at his last hour : and angry witlx his friend ; and 
angiy for what deserved ackiiowledgment ; angi:y. 



PREFACE. U7 

for a right and tender instance of true friendship 
towards him. Is not this surprising ? What could 
be the cause ? The cause was for his honour ; it 
was a truly noble, though, perhaps, a too punctilious 
regard for immortality : For his friend asking him, 
with such an affectionate concern as became a friend, 
** Where he shouid deposite his remains?" it was 
resented by Socrates, as implying a dishonourable 
supposition, that he could be so mean, as to have 
regard for any thing, even in himself, that was not 
Imxortai. 

This fact, well considered, would make our Infi- 
dels Avithdraw their admiration from Socrates ; or 
make them endeavour, by their imitation of this il- 
lusti'ious example to share his glory : and, conse- 
quently, it would incline them to peruse the follow- 
ing pages with candour and impartiality : which is 
all I desire ; ami that, for their sakes ; For I am 
persuaded, that an unprtyudiced Infidel must neces- 
sarily receive some advantageous impressions from 
them. 

July 7th, 1744. 



XJOMPLAINT. 

NIGHT SEVENTH. 

THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 

IN TWO PARTS. 

ConUiniogthe Nature, Proof and Importance of Immortalif j^ 

PART n. 

To the Right Honourable Henry Pelham. 



JHeAV'N gives the needful, but neglected, call. 

What day, what hour, but knocks at human heai'ts. 

To -wake the soul to sense oi future scenes ? 

Deaths stand, like JMeratries, in ev'iy m ay ; 

And kindly point us to our journey's end. 

Pope, who couldst make immoi-tals ; art thou dead ? 

I ^ve thee joy : Nor will I take ray leave ; 

So soon to follow. Man but dives in death ; 

Dives from the sun, in fairer day to rise ; 

The grave, his subterranean road to bliss. 

Yes, infinite indulgence plann'd it so ; 

Through various parts our glorious story runs j 

Time gives the pi'cface, eridless age unrolls 

The volume (ne'er uiu'oU'd) of human fate. 



150 THE COMPLAINT. 

This, earth and skies * already have proclaim'd. 
The world's a prophecy of worlds to come ; 
And who, Avhat God foretels (who speaks in thinge. 
Still louder than in -words) shall dai'e deny ? 
If JVatnre^s arguments appear too weak. 
Turn a new leaf, and stronger read in mem. 
If man sleeps on, untaught by what he sees. 
Can he prove Infidel to what ha feels? 
He, whose blind i}\o\i^\\.fiitiiriiy denies. 
Unconscious bears, Belleropkon ! like thee. 
His own indictment ; he condemns himself j 
Who reads his bosom, reads immortal life ; 
Or, JS^atvre, there,, imposing on her sons. 
Has written fables ; man was made a lie. 

Why discontent for ever harbour'd there ? 
Incurable consumption of our peace ? 
Resolve me, why, the cottager, and kingy 
He whom sea-serv'd realms obey, and he 
Who steals his whole dominion from the waste, 
Repelling winter blasts with mud and straw, 
Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh. 
In fate so distant, in complaint so near ? 

Is it that things teri^estrial can't content ? 
Deep in rich pasture, will thy flocks complain ? 
Not so ; but to their master is deny'd 
To share their sweet serene. Man, ill at ease, 
[n this, not his oiun place, this foreign field, 
Wliere Natiu*e fodders him with other food. 
Than was or.lain'd his craNangs to suffice. 
Poor in abundance, famish'd at a feast. 
Sighs on for something more, Avhen most enjoy'd. 
[s Heav'n then kinder to tliy flocks than thee ? 
Not so ; thy pasture richer, but remote ; 
[n part, remote ; for that remoter part 
Man bleats from instinct, though perhaps debauch'd 
By sense, his reason sleeps, nor dreams the cause. 
The cause how obvious, when his reason wakes ! 
His grief is but his gi-andeur in disguise ; 
And discontent is immortality. 

• Night Sixth, 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 1 5 1 

Shall sons of ether, shall the blootl of Heav'n, 
Set up their hopes on eartli, and stable herCy 
With brutal acquiescence in the mire ? 
Lorenzo ! no ! they shall be nobly pain'd ; 
The ^loYioVi^ foreigners distressM, shall sigh 
On thrones ; and thou congraUilate the sigh : 
Man's misery declares him born for bliss ; 
His anxiozis heart asserts the trutli I sing, 
And gives the sceptic in his head the lie. 

Our headsj our hearts, our passions, and our 
pow^rSy 
Speak the same language, call us to the skies ; 
Unripen'd these in this inclement clime. 
Scarce rise above conjecture, and mistake ; 
And for this land of trifles those too strong 
Tumultuous rise, and tempest human life : 
What prize on earth can pay us for the storm i* 
Meet objects for our passio7is Heav'n ordain'd. 
Objects that challenge all their fire, and leave 
No fault, but in defect : Bless'd Heav'n ! avert 
A bounded ardour for unbounded bliss ; 
O for a bliss tniboimded ! Far beneath 
A soul immortal, is a mortal joy. 
Nor are our po-uPrs to pei'ish immature ; 
But, after feeble effort here, beneath 
A brighter sun, and in a nobler soil. 
Transplanted from this sublunaiy bed. 
Shall flourish fair, and put forth all their bloom. 

Reason pi'ogi-essive, instinct is complete ; 
Swift instinct leaps ; slow reason feebly climbs. 
Brutes soon their zenith reach ; their little all 
Flows in at once : in ages they no more 
Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy. 
Were man to live coeval with the sun. 
The Patriarch pupil would be learning slill ; 
Yet, dying, leave his lesson half unlearn 'd. 
jMen perish in advance, as if the sun 
Should set ere noon, in Eastern oceans drown'd^; 
If fit, with dim, iJhtstrioiis to compare. 
The sun's meridian, with the sotd of man. 
To man, why step-dame lAafwre .' so scAcre ? 



152 THE COMPLAINT. 

Why thrown aside thy master-piece half-wrought. 

While meaner efforts thy last hand enjoy ? 

Or, if abortively, poor man must die. 

Nor reach, what i-each he might, why die in dread ? 

Why curs'd wiXh foresight ? Wise to misery ? 

Why of his proud prerogative the prey ? 

Why less pre-eminent in rank, than pain ? 

His immortality alone can tell ; 

Full ample fund to balance all amiss. 

And turn the scale in favour of the just ! 

His immortality alone can solve 
That darkest of enigmas, human hope ; 
Of all the darkest, if at death we die. 
Hope, eager hope, th' assassin of our joy. 
All present blessings treading under-foot. 
Is scarce a milder tyrant than despair. 
With no past toils content, still planning new, 
Hope turns us o'er to death alone for ease. 
Possession, why, more tasteless than pursuit ? 
Why is a wish far dearer than a crown ? 
That wish accomplish'd, why the grave of bliss ? 
Because, in the great future bury d deep. 
Beyond our plans of empire, and renown. 
Lies all that man with ardour should pursue : 
And He who made liim, bent him to the right. 
Man's heart th' Almighty to the future sets. 
By secret and inviolable springs ; 
And makes his hope his sublunary joy. 
Man's heait eats all things, and is hungry still ; 
** More, more !" the glutton cries : For something 

neiu 
So rages appetite, if man can't mount. 
He loill descend. He starves on the possess'd. 
I Hence, the world's master, from ambition's apire. 
In Caprea plung'd ; and div'd beneath the brute. 
In that rank stye why wallow'd empire's son 
Supreme ? Because he could no higher fly ; 
His riot was ambition in despair. 

Old JRome consulted birds ; Louenzo ! tho«i. 
With more success, the flight of hope surv^ ; 
Of restless hope, for evej:* on the Aving. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 153 

High-percli'd o'er ev'ry thought that falcon sits, 
To fly at all that rises iu her siglit ; 
And, never stooping, but to mount again 
Next moment, she betrays her aim's mistake. 
And owns her quariy lodg'd beyond the grave. 

There should it fail us (it must fail us there. 
If beins;- fails,) more moiu'nful riddles rise. 
Arid virtue vies with hope in mystery. 
Why virtiie ? Where its praise, its being fled ? 
Vii'tue is true self-interest pursu'd : 
What true self-interest of qidte-\\vovXa\ man ? 
To close with all that makes him happy here. 
If vice (as sometimes) is our friend on earth. 
Then vice is virtue ; 'tis our sov''reign good. 
In self-applause is virtue's golden prize ; 
No self-applause attends it on thy scheme : 
Wiience self-applause ? From conscience of the right* 
And what is riglit, but means of liappiness ? 
No means of happiness when virtue yields ; 
That basis failing, falls the building too. 
And lays in ruins ev'ry virtuous joy. 

The rigid guardian of a blameless heart. 
So long rever'd, so long reputed wise. 
Is weak ; m ith rank knight-errantries o'er-run. 
Why beats thy bosom with illustrious dreams 
Of self-exposure, laudable and gi-eat ? 
Of gallant enterprise, and gloinous death ? 
Die for thy country ? — Thou romantic fool ! 
Seize, seize the plank thyself, and let her sink : 
Thy counlry 1 what to thee ? The Godhead, what ? 
(I speak with awe !) tho' He should bid thee bleed I 
If, with thy blood, thy final hope is spilt. 
Nor can Omnipotence reward the blow ; 
Be deaf; preserve thy being; disobey. 

Nor is it disobedience : Know, LouE?irzo ! 
Whate'er th' Almighty's subsequent command. 
His first command is this : — " JNIan, love thyself." 
In this alone, free agents are 7iot free. 
Existence is the basis, bliss the prize ; 
If virtue costs existence, 'tis a crime ; 
Bold violation of our law supreme, 
G 2 ^ 



154 THE COMPLAINT. 

Black siiickle ; though nations, which consult 
Theu' gain, at thy expense, resound applause. 
Since virive^s recompense is doubtful, here, 
If man dies wholly, well may we demand, 
Why is man fniffer'd to be good in vain ? 
Wliy to be good in vain, is man enjoin' d ? 
Why to be good in vain, is man betray' d? 
Beti'ay'd by traitors lodg'd in liis own breast. 
By sweet complacencies from virtue felt } 
Why whispers JVatirre lies on Virtue's part .' 
Or if blind instinct (winch assumes the name 
Of sacred conscience^ psays the fool in man, 
Why reason made accor.ipiice in the cheat .'' 
Why are the ivisest loudest in her praise i' 
Can man by reasoTi's beam be led astray ^ 
Or, at his peril, imitate his God? 
Since virtue sometimes i-uins us on earth. 
Or both are true; or, man survives the gi-ave. 

Or man survives the grave, or own, Lorenzo. 
Thy boast supreme, a wild absurdity. 
Dauntless thy spirit ; cowards are thy scorn. 
Grant man immortal, and thy scorn is just. 
The man immortal, rationally brave, 
Dares rush on death — ^Ij; cause he cannot die. 
But if man loses all, Avhen life is lost, 
He lives a coward, or a fc.ol expires. 
A daring infidel, (and such tliere are. 
From pride, exam]de, lucre, rage, revenge. 
Or pure heroical defect of tliought,) 
Of all earth's madmen, most deserves a chain. 
When to the grave we follow the renown'd 
For valour, virtvie, science, all we love. 
And all we praise ; for luorth, whose noon-tide beam, 
Enj^bling us to tiiink in higher style, 
Mends our ideas of ethereal pow'rs ; 
Dream we, that lustre of tlie moral world 
Goes out in stench, and rottenness the close ? 
Why was he wise to kno\i\ and warm to praise. 
And strenuous to transcribe in human life. 
The mind At.xightt ? Could it be, that fate. 
Just v,hen the lineaments began to shine. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 155 

And dawn the Deitt, should snatch the draught. 
With niglit eternal blot it out, and give 
The skies alann, lest angels too might die ! 

If human souls, why not angelic too 
Extingiiish'd ? and a solitarij Gou, 
O'er ghastly ruin, frowning from his throne ? 
Shall we this moment gaze on Gon in man ? 
The ne^t, lose man for ever in the dust ? 
From dust we disengage, or man mistakes ; 
And there, where least his judgment fears a flaw. 
Wisdom and tvorth, how boldly he commends ! 
Wisdom and worth, are sacred names ; r«ver'd. 
Where not embrac'd ; apjilauded ! deify'd ! 
Why not compassion^ d too ? if spirits die. 
Both are calamities, inficted both 
To make us but more A^-retched : Wisdom's eye 
Acute, for what ? To spy more miseries ; 
And ivorth so recompens'd, new-points their stings. 
Or man surmonnts the grave, or gain is loss. 
And worth exalted htimbles us the more. 
Thou wilt not patronize a scheme that makes 
Weakness, and vice, the refuge of mankind. 

"Has virtue, then, no joys ?"— -Yes, joys deut - 
bought ,' 
Talk ne'er so long, in this imperfect state. 
Virtue, and vice, ai'e at eternal wai". ^ 
Virtiie''s a combat; aiKl mIio fights for nought.' 
Or for precarious, or for small reward ? 
Who virtue's se'f-reivard so loud resound. 
Would take decrees angelic here below. 
And virtue, v. bile they compliment, beti*ay. 
By feeble motives, and unfaithful guards. 
The ci-own, th' unfading cro'>\ n, her soul inspires . 
'Tis that, and tliat alone, can countervail 
The body's treach'ries, and the ivorld's assaults : 
On earth's poor pay our famish'd virtue dies. 
Truth incontestable ! In spite of all 
A BaTuE has preacli'd, or a V e believ'd, 

In man the more we dive, the moi'e we see 
Heav'n's signet stamping an immortal make. 
Dive to the bottom of his souj, the base 



156 THE COMPLAINT. 

Sustaining all ; Avhat find we ? KnoioledgCy love. 

As light, and heat, essential to the sun. 

These to the soul. And ivhy, if souls expire ? 

How little lovely here ? How little known ? 

Small knowledge we dig up Avith endless toil ! 

And love unfeign'd may purchase perfect hate. 

Why starv'd on earth, our angel appetites ; 

While brutal are indulg'd their fulsome fill ? 

Were then capacities divine conferr'd 

As a mock-diadem, in savage sport. 

Rank insult of our pompous poverty^ 

Which reaps but i)ain, from secniing claims so fair } 

In future age lies no redress ? xVnd shuts 

Eternity the door on our complaint ? 

If so, for what strange ends were mortals made ! 

The woi'st to -ivalloiv, and the best to weep ; 

The man who merits most, must most complain : 

Can Ave conceive a disregard in Heav'n, 

What the worst perpetrate or best endure ? 

This cannot be. To loxie, and know, in man 
Is boundless appetite, and boundless pow'r ; 
And these demonstrate boundless objects too. 
Objects, pow'rs, appetites, Heav'n suits in all ; 
Nor, J^'ature through, e'er violates this sweet. 
Eternal concord, on her tuneful string. 
Is man thejlble exception from her laws .'' 
Eternity struck off from human hope, 
(I speak Avith truth, but veneration too,) 
Man is a monster, the reproach of HeaA^'n, 
A stain, a dark impenetrable cloud 
On Nature's beauteous aspect ; and deforms, 
(Amazing blot !) deforms her Avith her Lord. 
If such is man's allotment, what is Heav'n .^ 
Or own the soul immortal, or blaspheme. 

Or own the soul immoital, or invert 
All order. Go, mock-majesty ! go, man ; 
And bow to tiiy superiors of the stall ; 
Throngh ev'ry scene of sanne superior far : 
They graze the turf luitd I'd ; they drink the stream 
Unbi-CAv'd, and CAor full, and unembitter'd 
With doubts, fears, fruitless hopes, regrets, despairs ; 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 157 

Mankind's peculiar ! Reason'' s precious dow'r ! 

No foreign clime they ransack for their robes ; 

Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar ; 

TJieir good is good entire, unmix'd, unmarr'd ; 

They find a paradise in ev'iy field, 

On hovL^% Jorbidden where no curses hang : 

Their ill^o more than strikes the sense ; unstretch'd 

By previons dread, or murmur in the rear ; 

When the iL^orst comes, it comes unfear'd ; one stroke 

Begins, and ends, their woe : They die but once ; 

Blest, incommunicable privilege ! for which 

Proud man, who I'ules the globe, and reads the stars, 

^Philosopher, or hero, sighs in vaiti. 

Account for this pi'erogative in brutes. 
No day, no glimpse of day, to solve the knot. 
But what beams on it from eternity. 
O sole and sweet solution ! That unties 
The difficult, and softens the severe ; 
The cloud on JK'aticre^s beauteous face dispels ; 
Restores bright oi^der ; casts the brute beneath ; 
And re-enthrones us in supremacy 
Of joy, ev*n here : Admit immortal life. 
And virtue is knight-errantry no more ; 
Each virtue brings in hand a golden dow'r, 
Far richer in reversion : Hope exults ; 
And though much bitter in our cup is thr<9wn. 
Predominates, and gives the taste of Heav'n. 
O wherefore is the Deitt so kind ? 
Astonishing beyond astonishment ! 
Heav'n our rewaixl— for Heav'n enjoy'd below. 

Still unsubdu'd thy stubborn heart ?• — 'For there 
The traitor lurks, Avho doubts the truth I shig. 
Reaso7i is guiltless ; tvill alone rebels. 
What, in that stubborn heart, if I should find 
New, unexpected witnesses against thee r 
Ambition, pleasure, and the love of gain .' 
Canst thou suspect, that these, which make the soul 
The slave of earth, should own her heir of Heav'n ? 
Canst thou suspect what makes us disbelieve 
Our immortality, should prove it SJire ? 

First, then, ambition summon to the bar. 



158 THE COMPLAINT. 

Ambition*s shame, extravagance, disgust^ 

And inextinguishable JVature, speak. 

Each much deposes ; hear them in theii* turn. 

Thy soul, how passionately fond of fame / 
How anxious, that fond passion to conceal ! 
We blush, detected in designs on praise, 
Though for best deeds, and from the best*^f men ; 
And why ? Because immortal. Art divine'' 
Has made the body tutor to the soul : 
Heav'n kindly gives our blood a moral flow ; 
Bids it ascend the glowing cheek, and there 
Upbraid that little heart's inglorious aim, 
Which stoops to court a character from man ; 
While o'er us, in ti'emendous judgment sit 
Far more than man, with endless praise, and blame. 

Ambition's boundless appetite out-speaks 
The verdict of its shame. AVhen souls take fire 
At high presumptions of their own desert, 
One age is poor applause ; the mighty shout. 
The thunder by the living ^ew begun. 
Late time must echo ; Avorlds unborn, resound. 
We wish our names eternally to live : 
Wild dream! which ne'er had haunted human though!^ 
Had not our natures been eternal too. 
Instinct points out an int'rest in hereafter ; 
But our bi&id reason sees not where it lies ; 
Or, seeing, gives the substance for the shade. 

Fame is the shade of immortalit}'. 
And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught. 
Contemn 'd ; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp. 
Consult th' ambitious, 'tis ambition's cure. 
*' And is this all ?" cry'd C<esar at his height. 
Disgusted. This tldrd proof ambition brings 
Of immortality. The first in fame. 
Observe him near, your envy will abate : 
Sham'd at the disproportion vast, between 
The passion and the purchasi-, he will sigh ;■ 

At such success, and blush at his renown. 
And why ? Because far ricbr'r piize invites 
His heart ; far more illasuiaus g'-ny calls ; 
It calls iu whispers, yet the deafest hear. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 15* 

And can ambition ?l fourth proof supply ? 
It can, and stronger than the former three ; 
Yet quite o'erlook'd by some repotted wise. 
Though disappointments in ambition pcdrif 
And though success disg-nsts ,• yet still, Lorexzo '. 
In vain we strive to pluck it from our hearts ; 
By Natuilp planted for the noblest ends. 
Absurd the fam'd advice to Pthrhcs giv'n, 
IMore prais'd, than ponder'd ; specious, but unsound 
Sooner that hero's sivord the world had quell'd. 
Than reasQ7i, his ambition. Man must soar. 
An obstinate activity within. 
An insuppressive spring, will toss him up 
In spite offortiine^s load. Not kings alone. 
Each villager has his ambition too ; 
No Sidtan prouder than his fetter'd slave : 
vSlaves build their little Babylons of straM', 
Eclio the proud Aftsyrian, in their hearts. 
And cry — " Behold the wonders of my might !" 
And why ? Because immortal as their loi-d ; 
And souls immortal must for ever heave 
At something gi-eat ; the glitter, or the gold : 
The praise of mortals, or the praise of Heav'n. 

Nor absolutely vain is hitman praise. 
When human is supported by divine. 
I'll introduce Lorknzo to himself: 
Pleasure and pride (bad masters !) share our heart 
As love o{ pleasure is oi*dain'd to guard 
And feed our bodies, and extend our race ; 
The love o^ praise is planted to protect 
And propagate the glories of the mind. 
\Miat is it, but the love of praise, inspu'es. 
Matures, refines, embellishes, exalts. 
Earth's happiness P From that, the delicate. 
The gi-and, the marvellous, of civil life. 
Want and convenience, under-workers, lay 
The basis, on which love of g-lory builds. 
Nor is thy life, O virtue ! less in debt 
To praise, thy secret stimulating friend. 
Were men not piy)nd, what merit should we miss ! 
Pride made the virtues of the Paean world. 



160 THE COMPLAINT. 

Praise is the salt that seasons right to man^ 
And whets his appetite for moral good. 
Tliirst of applause is virtue's second guard ; 
Reason^ her first ; but reason Avants an aid ; 
Our private reason is a flatterer ; 
Thii'st of applause calls public judgment in. 
To poise our own, to keep an even scale. 
And give endanger'd virtue fairer play. 

Here ^ fifth proof arises, stronger still : 
Why this so nice construction of our hearts ,• 
These delicate moralities of sense ; 
This constitutional reserve of aid 
To succour -virtue, when our reason fails ; 
If virtue, kept alive by care and toil. 
And oft the mark of injuries on earth. 
When labour'd to maturity (its bill 
Of disciplines, and pains, unpaid) nxn^t die ? 
Why freighted rich to dash against a rock .■' 
Were man to perish when most fit to live, 
O how mis-spent were all these stratagems. 
By skill divine inwoven in our frame ? 
Where are Heav'n's holiness and mercy fled ? 
Laughs Heav'n, at once, at virtue, and at mail * 
If not, why that discourag'd, this destroy'd ? 

Thus far ambitioii. What says avance ? 
This her ciiief maxim, which has long been thine : 
*' The wise and wealthy are the same."- — ^I gi-ant it> 
To store up treasure, with incessant toil, 
T/iis is man's province, this his highest praise. 
To this gi-eat end, keen instinct stings him on. 
To guide that instinct, reason ! is thy charge : 
'Tis tliine to tell us where true treasure lies : 
But, reason failing to discharge her trust. 
Or to the deaf discharging it in vain, 
A blunder follows ; and blind indtistry, 
Gall'd by the spur, but stranger to the course, 
(The course where stakes of mm*e than gold are 

won) 
O'erloading, with the cares of distant age, 
The jaded spii'its of the present hour, 
Provides for an eter7iity below. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 161 

*' TViou shalt not covet,^'' is a wise commaiul ; 
But bounded to the wealth the sun surveys ; 
Look farther, the command stands quite revers'd^ 
And av'rice is a virtue most divine. 
Is faith a refuge for our happiness ? 
Most sure : and is it not for reason too ? 
Nothing tMs world unriddles, but the next. 
Whence inextinguishable thirst of gain ? 
From inextinguishable life in man : 
Man, if not meant, by -worthy to reach the skie.s. 
Had wanted wing to fly so far in guilt. 
Sour grapes, I grant, ambition^ avarice : 
Yet still their root is immortality. 
These its wild growths so bitter, and so base, 
(Pain and reproach !) Religion can reclaim. 
Refine, exalt, throw down their pois'nous lee. 
And make them sparkle in the bowl of bliss. 

See the third ivitness laughs at bliss remote, 
And falsely promises an Eden here : 
Truth she shall speak for once, though prone to lie, 
A common cheat, and Pleasure is her name. 
To pleasui'e never was Lohenzo deaf ; 
Then hear her now, nowfrst thy real friend. 

Since Nature made us not more fond than proud 
Of happiness (whence hypocrites in joy. 
Makers of mirth, artificers of smiles,) 
Why should the joy, most poignant sense affoi-ds. 
Burn us with blushes, and rebuke our pride ?— • 
Those Heav'n-born blushes tell us man descend^s, 
Ev'n in the zenith of his earthly bliss : 
Should reason take her infidel repose. 
This honest instinct speaks our lineage high^ 
This instinct calls on darkness to conceal 
Our rapturous relation to the stalls. 
Our glory covers us with noble shame. 
And he that's unconfounded, is unman' d. 
The man that blushes is not quite a brute. 
Thus far with thee, Lorexzo I will I close ; 
Pleasure is good, and man for pleasure made ; 
But pleasure full oi glory, as of joy ; 
Pleasm-e, which neither 6/z^sAe*, nor expires. 



% 



162 TllE COMPLAINT. H 

The witnesses are heard ; the cause is o'er i 
Let conscience file the sentence in her court, 
Deai'er than deeds that half a reahn convey : 
Thus^ seal'd by fniih, th' authentic record runs : 

" Know, all ! know. Infidels — unapt to know I 
'Tis immortality your nature solves ; 
'Tis immortality decyphers man, 
Ami opens all the niyst'nes of his make. 
Without it, half liis insUncis are a riddle ; 
Without it, ail his virtues are a dream. 
His very crimes attest his dignity ; 
His sateless tliirst of pleasure, gold^ and fattier 
Declares him born for blessings infinite .- 
What less than infinite, makes un-absui'd 
Passions, which all on earth but more inflames ; 
Fierce passions, so mis-measurV! to this scene, 
Streteh'd oat, like eagles' wings, beyond our nest. 
Far. far beyond the worth of all below. 
For earth too large, presage a nobler flight. 
And evidence our title to the skies" 

Ye gentle theologues, of calmer kind ! 
Whose constitution dictates to your pen. 
Who, cold yourselves, think ardour comes frora 

hell ! 
Think not our passions from corruption sprung. 
Though to corruption noxo they lend their wings ; 
Tliat is their mistress, not their mother. All 
(And justly) Reason deem divine : I see, 
I feel a grandeur in the passions too, 
"WTiich speaks their high descent, and glorious end. 
Which speaks them rays of an etei-nal fire. 
In paradise itself they burnt as strong. 
Ere Adam fell ; though wiser in their aim. 
Ijike the proud Eastern, struck by Prondence, 
What though our passions are run mad, and stoop 
With low, terrestrial appetite, to graze 
On trash, on toys, dethron'd from high desire ? 
Yet still, thi'ough their disgrace, a feeble ray 
Of greatness shines, and tells us whence they fell : 
But these (like that fall'n monarch when reclaim'd) 
>\Tien reason moderates the rein aright. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 163 

Shall re-ascend, retnount their forraer sphere. 
Where once they soar'd illustrious ; ere seduc'd 
By wanton Ete's dehauch, to stroll on earth. 
And set the sublunary world on fire. 

But grant th> ir frenzy lasts ; tVieir frenzy fails 
To disappoint one providential end, ■ 
For which Heav'n blew up ardour in our hearts : 
Were reason silent, boundless passion speaks 
A future scene of boundless objects too. 
And bnngs glad tidings of eternal day. 
Eternal Day ! 'Tis tliat enlightens all : 
And all, by that enlighten'd, proves it sure. 
Consider man as an immortal being. 
Intelligible all ; and all is great ; 
A crystalline transparency prevails. 
And strikes full lustre through the human sphere : 
Consider man as mortal, all is dark. 
And wretched ; Reason weeps at the survey. 

The learn'd Lorenzo cries, ** And let her weep. 
Weak, modem reason : Ancient times were wise, 
AutkoHty^ that venerable guide, 
Stands on ray part ; the fam'd Athenian porch 
(And who for wisdom so renown'd as they .') 
Deny'd this immoilality to man." 
I grant it ; but affirm, they prov'd it too. 
A riddle this !— Have patience ; I'll explain. 

What noble vanities, what moral flights, 
Glitt'ring through their romantic wisdom's page, 
Make us, at once despise them, and admire ! 
Fable is flat to (hese high-season'd sires ; '% 

They leave th' extravagance of song below. M: 

** Flesh shall not feel ; or, feeling, shall enjoy '^ 

The dagger, or the rack, to them, alike 
A bed of roses, or the burning bull." 
In men exploding all beyond the gi-ave. 
Strange doctrine, tliis ! — As doctrine, it was strange ; 
But not, as prophecy ; for such it prov'd. 
And, to their own amazement, was fulfill'd r 
They feigu'd a firmness Christians need not feign. 
The Christian truly triumph'd in the flame : 
The Stoic saM', in double wonder lost, 



104 THE COfPLAINT. 

Wonder at them, and M'onder at himself, - i; 
To iiiid the bold adventures of his thought 
JSTat bold, and that he strove to lie in vain. 
Whence, then, those thoughts? Those tow'rinj 
thoughts, that flew 
Such monstrous heights ?— From instinct^ and froR 

pHde^ 
The glorious instinct of a deathless soul, 
Confus'dly conscious of her dignity, 
Suggested truths they could not understand. 
In lust^s dominion, and in passion's storm. 
Truth's system broken, scatter'd fragments lay^ J 
(As light in chaos, glimm'ring through the gloom :]| 
Smit Avith the pomp of lofty sentiments, 
Pleas'd pride proclaim'd, what reason disbelieved. 
Pride, like the I)elphic priestess, with a swell, 
Rav'd nonsense, destin'd to be JiUiire sense. 
When life immortal, in full day should shine ; 
And death's dark shadows fly the Gospel sun. 
They spoke, what nothing but immortal souls 
Could speak; and thus the tnith they question'dj 
pi'ov'd. 
Can then absurdities^ as well as crimes^ 
Speak man immorta^ ? All things speak him so. 
Much has been urg'd ; and dost thou call for more f 
Call ; and with endless questions be distress'd. 
All unresolvable, if earth is all. 

" Why life, a moment ? Infinite, desire ? 
Our wish, eternity ? Our home, the grave ? 
Heav'n's promise dormant, lies in human hope ,- 
Who -zuishes life immortal, proves it too. 
Why happiness pursu'd tiiough never found ? 
Man's thirst of happiness declares it is, 
(For Nature never gravitates to nought,) 
That thirst unquench'd, declares It is not here. 
JUv Lucia, thy Clarissa, call to thought ; 
Why cordial friendship rivetted so deep. 
As hearts to pierce at first, at i)arting, rend. 
If friend, and friendship, vanish in an hour ? 
Is not this torment in the mask of joy ? 
Why by rejiection man-'d the jojs of semeP 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 165 

Why past, and future, preying on our hearts, 
And putting all our present joys to death ? 
Why labours reason ? Instinct av ere as well ; 
fostinct, far better ; what can choose, can err : 
O how infallible the thoughtless brute ! 
*Twere well his holiness were half as sure. 
Season with i7iclination, why at war ? 
Why sense oi gtdlt? Why conscience up in arms r" 

Conscience of g^iilt, is prophecy of pain, 
And bosom-counsel to decline the blow. 
Reason with inclination ne'er had jarr'd. 
If nothing future paid forbearance here. 
Thus on — ^These, and a thousand pleas uncall'd. 
All promise, some ensure, a second scene ; 
Which, were it doubtful, would be dearer far 
Than all tilings else most certain ; were it false. 
What tt^uth on earth so precious as the lie ? 
TTiis world it gives us, let what will ensue ; 
This world it gives, in that high cordial, hope : 
The future of the present is the soul ; 
How this life gi'oans, when sever'd from the next .' 
Poor, mutilated wretch, that disbelieves ! 
By dark distrust his being cut in two. 
In both parts perishes ; life void of joy. 
Sad prelude of eternity in pain ! 

Couldst thou persuade me, the 7i€xt life could fail 
Our ai'dent wishes ; how should I pour out 
My bleeding heart hi anguish, ne-v, as deep ! 
Oh ! with what thoughts, thy hope, and my despair, 
AbhoiT'd ANNiHiLATiox ! biasts the soul, , -^ 

And wide extends the bounds of human woe ! 
Could I believe Lorenzo's system true. 
In this black channel would my ravings run. 

*' Grief from the future borrow'd peace, ere-wlalc. 
The future vanish d ! and the present pained ! 
Strange import of unprecedented ill ! 
Fall, how profound ! like Lucifer'.s the fall ! 
Unequal /ate ! His fall, without his guilt ! 
From where fond hope built her pavilion high, 
rhe gods among, hurl'd headlong, hurl'd at once 
Fo night ! To nothing ! Darker siill than night. 



156 THE COMPLAINT. _ 

If 'twas a dream, why ivake me, ray worst foe ? 

Lorenzo! boastful of die name of friend! 

O for delusion ! O foi' trroi- still ! 

Could vengeance strike much stronger than to, plant, 

A thinking being in a world like this, 

Not over-rich before, 7io~tc bcggar'd quite ; 

More curst than at tbo fall? — The Sun goes out ! 

The thorns shoot up ! What thorns in ev'ry thought 1 

Why sense of better ? It embitters worse. 

Why sense ? Why iife ? If but to sigh, then sink . 

To Avhat I was ! 'l\vice nothing ! and much woe ! 

Woe, from lleav'ii's bounties ! yV"oe, from what was 

wont 
To flatter most, high intellectiial potv^rs. 

Thought, virtue, kno~u<ledge ! Blessings, by thy 

scheme. 
All poison'd into pains. First, knowledge, once 
My soul's ambition, noxv her greatest dread. 
To kno~cO mi/self, true wisdom ? — No, to shun 
That shocking science. Parent of despair ! 
Avert tliy rairror : If I see, I die. 
" Kno~M my Creator ? Climb his blest abode 
By painful speculation, pierce the veil. 
Dive in his nature, read his attributes. 
And gaze in admiration — on a foe. 
Obtruding life, with-ho:ding happiness ! 
From the full rivers tliat surround his thix)ne. 
Not letting fall one drop of joy on masi ; 
K (Man gasping for one drop, that he might cease 
Jv To cui'se his birth, nor en\y reptiles more !) 
Ye sable clouds ! Ye darkest shades of night ! 
Hide him, for ever hide him, froiii my thought. 
Once all my comfort ; |0uree, and soul of joy ! 
N ow leagu'd with funes, and with thee,* against nic 
Thee, numkind's boasted friend, and blackest foe. 
" Knov) his achievements ? Study his renown ? 
Contemplate this amazing universe, 
Dropt tram his hand, with miracles replete ! 
For what ? 'Mid miracles of nobler name, 
To find one miracle of misery ? 



NIGHT SEVENTH. ISf 

To find the being, wluch alone can knoio 
And praise \ir& works, a bleniisli on his praise ? 
Thro Natui'e's ample range, in thought to stroll. 
And start at man, the single mourner there. 
Breathing high hope ! chain'd down to pangs and 
deatii ? 

Kno\\ ing- is sufF'i-ing : And shall virtue share 
The sigh of Jaioxvledge ? Virtue shares the sigh. 
By straining up the steep of excellent. 
By battles fought, and, from temptation, Avon, 
What gains she, but the pang of seeing wor,th, 
Angelic worth, soon shuffled in the dark 
With ev'ry vice, and swept to brutal dust ? 
Merit is madness ; virtue is a criiue ; 
A cri)ne to reason, if it costs us pain 
Unpaid: What pain, amidst a thous:ind more, 
To think the most abandoned, after days 
Of triumph o'er their bettei-s, find in deatlx 
As sofc a pillow, nor make /bj^/fr clay ! - 

Dutii / Religion ! — These, our duty done. 
Imply reward. Religion is mistake. 
Duty ! — There's none, bvit to repel the cheat. 
Ye cheats ! away ! ye daughters of my [iride ! 
Who feign yourselves the fav'rites of tho skies : 
Ye tow'ring hopes ! abortive enei'gies ! 
That toss, and struggle, in my lying breast. 
To scale the skies, and build presumptions thei'e, 
As J were heir of an eternity ; 
Vain, vain ambitions ! trouble me no more. 
Why travel far in quest of sure defeat ? "% 

As bounded as my being, be ray Avish. 
All is inverted, wisdom is a fool. 
Senne, take the rein ; blind />a.5.?/o??, drive us on ; 
And, ignorance, befriend us on our way ; 
Ye ne~.vi, but truest pati-ons of our peace ! 
Yes; ^ve the pulse full empire ; live the brvie. 
Since, as the brute, we die. The sum of man, 
'Of godlike man ! to revel, and to rot. 

" But not on equal terms with other brutes : 
Their revels a more poignant relish yield. 
And safer too; they never poisons choose. 



1^8 THE COMPLAINT. 

Imtincty than reason, makes more wholesome meals. 

And sends all-JTiarring raiu*mnr far away. 

For sensva: lift they best philosophize ; 

Theirs, that (.erene, the sa^es sought in vain : 

'Tis ?na?i 3lone expostulates Avith Heav'n ; 

His, ail Tjie poiv'r, and all the cmtse, to moun*-. 

Shall human eyes alone dissolve in tears ? 

And bleed, in anguish, none but human hearts ? 

The wide-stretch'd realm of intellecUial woe. 

Surpassing sensual far, is all our own. 

In life so fatally distinguish'd, why 

Cast in one lot, confounded, lump'd, in death ? 

" E're yet in being, was mankind in guilt ? 
AMiy thunder'd this peculiar clause against us ? 
All-mortal, and all-wretched / — Have the skies 
Reasons of state, their subjects may not scan, 
Nor hnmblif reason, when they sorely sigh ? 
All-mortal, and all-ivretched ! — 'Tis too much ; 
Unparallel'd in Nature : 'Tis too much 
On being nnrequested at thy hands, 
OsrjfipoTEXT ! for I see nought but />ow'r. 

And why see that ? Why thought ? To toil, and eat. 
Then make our bed in darkness, needs no thought. 
"Wliat supei-fiuities are reas''ning souls ! 
O give eternity ! or thought destroy. 
But without thought our curee were half unfelt : 
Its blunted edge would spare the throbbing heart ; 
And, therefore, 'tis bestow'd. I thank thee. Season ' 
For aiding life's too small calamities. 
And giving being to the dread of death. 
Such are thy bounties ! — Was it then too much 
For 77ie, to trespass on the brutal rights ? 
I'oo much for Heaven to make one emmet more ? 
Too much for chaos to permit my mass 
A longer stay Avith essences unwrought, 
Unfashion'd, untormejited into man P 
Wretched preferment to this I'Oimd of pains ' 
Wretched capacity of frenzy, thought! 
'Wretched capacity of dying, life ! 
lAfe, thought, luorth, ivisdom, all (O foul revolt!) 
Once friends to peace, gone over to the foe. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 1' : 

Death, then, has chang'd its nature too : O death ! 
Come to my bosom, thou best gift of Hea>''n ! 
Best friend of man ! since man is man no more. 
Why in this thorny -ivildeviiess so long, 
Since there's no promie'd land's ambi'osial bov 'r. 
To pay me with its honey for my stings ? 
If needful to the selfish schemes of Heav'n 
To sting us sore, w hy mocked our misery ? 
Why this so sumptuous insult o'er our heads ? 
Why this illustrious canopy display'd ? 
Why so magnificently lodg'd despair ? 
At stated periods, sure -returning, roll 
These glorious orbs, that mortals may compute 
Their length of laboui-s, and of pains ; nor lose 
Their misery's full measvu'e ;" — Smiles with flow'rs, 
And fruits, promiscuous, ever-teeming earth. 
That man may languish in luonirioiis scenes. 
And in an Eden mourn his wither'd joys ? 
Claim earth and skies man's admiration, due 
For sitch delights ? Blest animah ! too -wise 
To wonder ; and too happy to complain ! 

" Oar doom decreed demands a mournful scene : 
Why not a dungeon dark, for the condemned ? 
Why not the dragon's subterraneous den. 
For man to howl in ? Wliy not his abode 
Of the same dismal colour with his late ? 
A Thebes, a Babiilon, at vast expense 
Of time, toil, treasure, art, for owls and adders. 
As congruous, as, for man, this lofty dome, 
Which prompts proud thought, and kindles liigh d(- 

sire ; 
If, from her humble chamber in the dust. 
While proud thought swells, and high desu'e inflameSj 
The poor ivorin calls us for her inmates tJiere ; 
And, round us, deatlis inexorable hand 
Draws the dark curtain close ; nndraivn no mox-e. 

" Undraivn no more .' — Behind the cloud of death. 
Once, I beheld a Sun ; a Sun which gilt 
That sable cloud, and turn'il it all to gold : 
How the Gravels alter'd ! fathomless, as hell ! 
A real hell to those ^\ho dreamt of Heav'n. 
H 



170 THE COMPLAINT. 

AxjfiHiLATioN ! How it yawns before me ! 
Next moment I may drop from thought, from sense^ 
The privilege of angeU, and of xvovms. 
An outcast from existence ! And this spirit, 
Tliis all-pervading, this all-conscious soul, 
This particle of energy divine, 
Which travels Nature, flies from star to star. 
And visits gods, and emulates their pow'rs. 
For ever is extinguish'd. Horror ! Death ! 
Death oZ that death I fearless once survey'd ! 
'When horror iniiversal shall descend, 
And Heav'n's dai'k concave urn all human race. 
On that enormous, unrefunding- tomb, 
How just this verse ! this monumental sigh ! 

" Beneath thn liimlier of demolish'd worlds, 
Deep in tlic rnbl)ish of the gen'ral wreck, 
Swept ignoiuinioiis to the common mass 
Of matter, neMV uigiiif5''d with life, 
Her. lie proud Jiutionats ; the sons of Heav'n ! 
The lords ol" earth ! the property of worms ! 
Being's of yesterday, and no to-morrow ! 
Who iiv'd in terror, and in paugs expir'd ! 
All g;one to rot in cliaon ; or, to make 
Their happy transit into b'orks or brutes^ 
Nor lunger sully their Creator's name." 

LoHExzo ! hear, pause, ponder, and jjronounce. 
Just is this histoiy ? If such is man, 
Alankind's histO)"ian, though divine, might 7veep. 
And daix-s Loiiknzo smile ? I know thee proud : 
For once lat pride befriend thee ; pride looks pale 
At such a scene, and sighs for something more. 
Amid thy boasts, presumptions, and displays. 
And art t'lou thtin a shadow ? Less than shade ? 
A nothing ? igs? than nothing r To hat^ been. 
And ?iot to be^ is lower tlian uiiborn. 
Art thou ambitioiis ? Why then make the w^ormi 
Thine equal ? Ru, s thy taste gT pleasure high ? 
Why patronize sure death of ev'ry joy ? 
Charm riches ? Why choose bcgg'ry in the grave. 
Of 'v'ry hope a bankrupt ! andj^o?' ever? 
JJfe's joy so rich, thou canst not wish for more ? 
Ambitionj pkasure^ avarice, persuade thee 



NIGHT SEVEirra in 

To make that world of glory, rapture, wealth. 
They* lately proved, thy soul's supreme desire. 

What art thou made of ? Rather how unmade i 
Great J\'ainre''s master appetite destroy'd ! 
Is endless life, and happiness, despis'd ? 
Or both wish'd, here, wliere neither can be found ? 
Such man's perverse, eternal war with Heav'n ! 
Dar'st thou pei-sist P And is there nought on earth, 
B It a loiig ti'ain of transitory forms, 
Rising, and breaking, millions in an hour ! 
Bubbles of a fantastic Deity, blown up 
In sport, and then in cruelty desti'oy'd ? 
Oh ! for what crime, unmerciful Lorexzo ! 
Destroys thy scheme the rvhole of human I'ace ■ 
Kind is fell Lucifer, comparM to thee : 
Oh ! spare this xvaste of bt.ing half-divine ; 
An-'l vindicate th' economy of Heav'n. 

Heav'n is all love ; all joy in giving joy : 
It never had created but to bless : 
And shall it, then, strike off the list of life 
A being blest, or worthy so to be ? 
Heav'n starts at an amiihilating God. 
Is that, all nature stai'ts at, thy desii'e ? 
Art Siich a clod to wish thyself all clay ? 
What is that dreadful wish ? — The dying groan 
Of . ^Tature, murder'd by the blackest guilt. 
What deadly poison has thy nature drank ? 
To nature undebauch'd no shock so great ; 
Nature's j?rs^ wish is encVess happiness ; 
AmiihUaUon is an a/><?7'-thonght, 
A monstrous wish, unborn 'till virtue dies. 
And, oh ! what depth of horror lies enclos'd ! 
For non-existence no man ever av ish'd. 
But, first, he wish'd the Deitt destroy'd. 

If SO; what woi"ds are dai'k enough to draw 
Thy picture ti'ue ^ The darkest are too fair 
Beneath what baleful planet, in what hour 
Of desperation, by what fury's aid. 
In wkat iufernal posture of the soul, 

• In the Sixth Night. 



172 THE COMPLAINT. 

All hell invited, and all hell in joy 
At such a birth, a birth so near otkin, 
Did thy (ou.1 fancy whe>|» so black a scheme 
Of hopes abortive, faculties half-blown, 
And Deities beg^in, reduc'd to dust ? 

There's nought (thou say'st) but one eternal flux 
Of feeble essences, tumultuous driv'n 
Through timers rough billoAvs into night^s abyss. 
Say, in this rapid title of human ruin, 
Is there no rocA-, on which man's tossing thought 
Can rest from terror, dare his fate survey, 
And boldly think it something to be born ? 
Amid such hourly wrecks of being fair, 
Is there no central, all-sustaining base. 
All-realizing, all-connecting poiv'r, 
AMiich, as it call'd forth all things, can recall, 
And force destruction to refund her spoil ? 
Command the grave restore her taken prey ? 
Bid death's dark vale its human harvest yield. 
And eai'th, and ocean, pay their debt of'man. 
True to the grand deposite trusted there ? 
Is there no potentate, whose out-stretcht aran 
AVhen rip'ning time calls forth th' appointed hour, 
Pluck'd from foul devastation's famish'd maw, 
Binds present, past, and future, to his throne ? 
His throne, how glorious, thus divinely gi-ac'd, 
Bv germinating beings clust'ring round ! 
A garland Avoilhy the divinity ! 
A throne, by Heav'n's Omnipotence in smiles, 
Built (like a Pharos tow'ring in the waves) 
Amidst immense effusions of his love ! 
An ocean of communicated bliss ! 

Aji all-prolific, all-preserving God ! 
This were a God indeed. And such is man, 
As here presum'd : He rises from his fall. 
Think' st thou Omnipotence a naked root. 
Each hlossom fair of Deity destroy'd ? 
Nothing is dead ; nay, nothing sleeps ; each soul. 
That ever animated human clay. 
Now wakes ; is on the Aving : And Avhere, O where, 
Will the swarm settle ? — ^When the trumpet's eali. 



NIGHT SE\'ENTH. 173 

As sounding brass, collects us, round HeaVn's throne 

Conglob'd, we bask in evex-lasting day, 

(Paternal splendoiu' !) and adhere for ever. 

Had not the soul this outlet to the skies, 

In this vast vessel of the universe, 

How should Ave gasp, as in an empty void ! 

How in the pangs of famish'd hope expire ! 

How bright my prospect shines ! How gloomy 
thine ! 
A trembling world ! and a devouring God ! 
Earth, but the shambles of Omnipotence ! 
Heav'ti's face all stain'd Avith causeless massacres 
Of countless millions, born to feel the pang 
Of being lost. Lorexzo ! can it be ? 
This bids us shudder at the thoughts of lifcy 
Who Avould be born to such a phantom Avorld, 
Where nouglit substantial, but our misery ? 
Where joy (if joy) but heightens our distress. 
So soon to perish, and revive no more P 
The greater such a joy, the more it pains. 
A Avorld, Avhen dark, mysterious vanity, 
Oi good and ill the distant colours blends, 
Confounds all reason, and all hope destroys ; 
Reason and hope, our sole asylum here ! 
A Avorld, so far from great (and yet hoAv gi*eat 
It shines to thee !) there's nothing real in it ; 
Being, a shadoAv ! Consciousness, a dream ! 
A dream, how dreadful ! Universal blank 
Before it, and behind ! Poor man, a spark 
From non-existence struck by Avrath divine, 
Glitt'ring a moment, nor that moment sure, 
'Midst upper, nethei', and surrounding night. 
His sad, sure, sudden, and eternal tomb ! 

Lo*Exzo! dost thou yj?e/ these arguments? 
Or is there nought but vengeayice can be felt ? 
How hast thou dar'd the Deity dethrone ? 
HoAV dar'd imUct him of a Avorld like this ? 
If ftnch the Avorld, creation was a crime ; 
For what is crime, but cause of misery ? 
Reti-act, blasphemer ! and unriddle this. 
Of endless arguments above^ belotp. 



174 THE COMPLAINT. 

Without us, and ■within^ the short result — 

** If mail's immortal, there's a God in Heav'n*^ 

But M'herefore such redundancy ? Such waste 
Of argument ? One sets my soul at rest ; 
One obvious, and at hand, and. Oh !— at lieart. 
So just the skies, Philander's life so pain'd. 
His heart so pure ; that, or succeedi^ig scenes 
Have palms to give, or ne'er had he been born. 

*' What an old tale is this !" Lorenzo cries.— 
I grant this argument is old ; but truth 
No years impair ; and had not this been ti'ue, 
Thou never hadst despis'd it for its age. 
Trvth is immortal as thy soul; a.rtd fable 
As fleeting as thy joys : Be wise, nor make 
Heav'n's highest blessing, vengeance ; O be wise ! 
Nor make a curse of immortality. 

Say, know'st thou what it is ? Or what tho2i art ? 
Know'st thou th' ijnportance of a soul immortal ? 
Behold this midnight glory : Worlds on worlds ! 
Amazing pomp ! Redouble this amaze ; 
Ten thousand add ; add twice ten thousand more ; 
Then weigh the whole ; one soul outweighs them all ; 
And calls th' astonishing magnificence 
Of imintelUgent creation poor. 

For this, believe not me ; no man believe ; 
Trust not in words, but deeds ; and deeds no less 
Than those of the Supreme ; nor his, a few ; 
Consult them all ; consulted, all pi'oclaim 
Thy sonVs importance : Tremble at thyself; 
For whom Omnipotence has wak'd so long : 
Has wak'd, and work'd, for ages ; from the birth 
Of Nature to this unbelieving hour. 

In this small province of his vast domain 
(All JVature bow, while I pronounce his name4) 
What has Gon done, and not for this sole end, 
To rescue souls from death ? The soid^s high price' 
Is writ in all the conduct of the skies. 
The souVs high price is the creation's key^ 
Unlocks its mysteries, and naked lays 
The genuine cause of ev'iy deed divine : 
That, is the chain of ages ^ which maintains 



NIGHT SEVENTH. ITj 

Their obvious correspondence, and unites 

Most distant periods in one bless'd design : 

That, is the mighty fdnge, on which have tum'd - 

All revolutions, whether we regard 

The nat'ral, civil, or religio7(s, v. orld ; 

The former two, liut servants to the third: 

To that their duty 4one, they both expire, 

Their mass new-cast, forgot their deeds retwwn^ d ; 

And angels ask, " tVhere once they shone ?,o fair ?''* 

To lift us from this abject, to sublime ; 
This flux, to permanent ; tiiis dark, to day ; 
This foul, to pure ; this turbid, to serene ; 
This mean, to mighty !— for this glorious end 
Th' Almiightt, rising, his long Sabbath broke ; 
The world was made ; was ruin'd ; was restor'd ; 
Laws from the skies were publish'd ; were repeal'd ; 
On earth, kings, kij^jdpms, rose; kings, kingdoms 

fell ; |F' 

Fam'd sages lighted up the Pagan world ; 
Prophets from Sion darted a keen glance 
Through distant age ; saints travell'd ; martyrs bled; 
By wonders sacred nature stood controul'd ; 
The living were translated ; dead were rais'd ; 
Angels, aUd more than angels, came from Heav'n ; 
And, oh ! for this, descended lower still ; 
Gilt was hell's gloom ; astonish'd at his guest. 
For one short moment Lucifer ador'd : 
LoRExzo ! and wilt thou do less ? — For this. 
That hallowed page, fools scoff at, was inspir'd. 
Of all these truths thrice venerable code ! 
Deists / perform your quarantine ; and then 
Fall prostrate, e'er you touch it, lest you die. 

Nor less intensely bent infernal pow'rs 
To mar, than those of light, this end to gain. 
O what a scene is here ! — Lorexzo ! wake. 
Rise to the thought ; exert, expand thy soul 
To take the vast idea : It denies 
All ehe the name of great. Two wan-ing worlds. 
Not Europe against Afric ; warring worlds. 
Of more than moi*tal ! mounted on the wing ! 
On ardent wings of ener^', and zeal. 



176 THE COMPL.\INT. 

High-hov'ring o'er this little brand of strife ! 
This sublunary ball — But strife, for what ? 
In their own cause conflicting ? No ; in thine^ 
h\ man's. His single int'rest blows the flame ; 
His the sole stake ; his fate the trumpet sounds. 
Which kindles war immortal. How it burns ! 
Tumultuous swarms of deities in arms ! 
Force, force opposing, 'till the waves run high, 
And tempest Nature's universal sphere. 
Such opposites eternal, stedfast, stern. 
Such foes implacable, are good, and ill ; 
Yet man, vain man, would mediate peace between 
them. 
Think not this fiction. *' There -ivas loar in Heaven.'''' 
From Heav'n's high ciystal mountain, where it hung, 
Th' Amiighty's out-stretcht arm took down his bow. 
And shot his indignation at tlxel^e/j .• 
Re-thunder'd hell, and darte^rlp her fires. 
And seems the stake of little moment still .'' 
And slumbers man, who singly caus'd the storm ? 
He sleeps. — And art thou shock'd at mystei^es ? 
The gi-eatest, tliou. How dreadful to reflect. 
What ardour, care, and counsel, mortals cause 
In breasts divine ! How little in their owbW 

Where'er I turn, how new proofs pour upon me ! 
How happily this wondrous view supports 
My former argument ! How strongly strikes 
Immortal life's full demonstration, here / 
Why this exertion ? Why this strange regai-d 
I^m Heav'n's Omnipotent indulg'd to man ? — 
Because, in man, the glorious, dreadful pow'r, 
E.Ktremely to be pain'd, or blest for ever. 
Duration gives importance ; swells the price. 
An angel, if a creature of a day. 
What would he be ? A trifle of no weight ; 
Or stand, or fall ; no matter which ; he's gone. 
^Because iim^iortax, therefore is indulg'd 
This strange regard of deities to dust. 
Hence, Heav'n looks down on earth with all her eyes : 
Hence, the souls mighty moment in her sight : 
Hence, ev'ry soul has partisans above. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 177 

And ev'iy thought a critic m the skies : 

Hence, clay^ vile clay ! has angels for its guard, 

And ev'ry guard a passion for liis chai-ge : 

Hence, from all age, the cabinet di\-ine 

Has lield high counsel o'er the fate of man. • 

Nor lidve the clouds those gracious counsels hid. 
Angels undrew the curtain of the throne, 
And Providkxce came forth to meet mankind ; 
In various modes of emphasis and awe. 
He spoke his will, and trembling ,A''ature heard ; 
He spoke it loud, in thunder, and in storj^. 
Witness, thou Sinai !* whose cloud-cover'd height. 
And shaken basis, own'd the present Con : 
Witness, ye billoxvs /f wliose returning tide. 
Breaking the chain that fasten'd it in air. 
Swept Eg-ypt, and her menaces to hell ; 
Witness, ye /fames th' \/lssyrlnn tyrant blew t 
To sevenfold rage, as impotent, as strong ; 
And thou, earth ! witness, whose expanding jaws 
Clos'd o'er presumption^ s sacrilegious sons : I| 
Has not each element, in turn, subscrib'd 
The soul's high price, and sworn it to the -wise ? 
Has not flaoj^'j ocean, ether, earthquake, strove 
To strike tms truth, through adamanthie man ? 
If not flZZ-adamant, Louexzo ! hear ; 
All is delusion, JVature is wrapt up. 
In tenfold night, from reason's keenest eye; 
There's no consistence, meaning, plan, or end. 
In all beneath the sun, in all above, 
(As far as man can penetrate,) or Heav'n 
Is an immense, inestimable prize ; 
Or all is nothing, or that i)rize is all. 
And shall each toy be still a match for Heav'n ! 
And full equivalent for gi'oans IkjIow ? 
Wlio would not give a trifle to prevent 
What he would give a thousand w orlds to cure ? 

LonExzo ! Thou hast seen (if thine, to see) 
Ail JVature, and her God (by Nature's course, 

• EKod. six. 16, 18. t EKod. siv. 27. % Dan. iii. 19, 

11 Numb. xvi. 32. 

h2 



178 THE COMPLAINT. 

And Natui'e's course co7itroul' d) declare for me : 
The skies above proclaim " Immortal man !" 
And " Man immortal /" all below resounds. 
The world's a system of theology, 
R^ad, by the gi'eatest strangers to the schools ; 
If holiest, learn'd : and sages o'er a plough. 
Is not, LoREifzo ! then, impos'd on thee 
This hard alternative ; or, to renounce 
Thy reason, and tliy sense ,- or, to believe ? 
What then is unbelief? 'Tis an exploit ; 
A sti'enuous enterprize : To gain it, man 
Must burst through ev'ry bar of common sense. 
Of common shajue, magnanimously wrong. 
And what rewards the sturdy combatant ? 
Misprize, repentance,- /?{/fl7?.'?/ his crown. 

But wherefore, injamy '? For want o^ faith, 
Down the steep precipice of ivrong he slides ; 
There's nothing to sujjport him in the right. 
Faith in the future wautir.g, is, at least 
In Embryo, ev'ry weakness, ev'ry guilt ; 
And strong temptation ripens it to birth. 
If this life's gain invites him to the deed. 
Why not his countiy sold, his father slain ? 
'Tis vii'tue to pursue our good svpreme ; 
And his supreme, his only good is here. 
Ambition, avarice, by the \irise disdain'd, 
Is perfect -cvisdom, while mankind Sire fools. 
And think a turf, fir tombstone, covers all : 
Tliese find eniploynicnt, and yirovide for sense 
A richer pasture, and a larger range ; 
And sense by right divine ascePids the throne. 
When virtne^s prize and prospect are no more ; 
Virtue no more we tliink the will of Heav'n. 
Would Heav'n quite beggar virtue, if belov'd ? 

«' W'A^virtve charms ?' — I grant her heav'nly fair; 
But if unportion'd, all will int'rest wed; 
Though that our admiration, this our choice. 
The virtues grow on immortality ; 
That root destroy'd, they wither and expire. 
A Deity believ'd, will nought avail ; 
Jie-wards s^nd punishments make God ador'd; 



NIGHT SEVENTH. . 179 

And hopes ^cad fears give conscience all her poM'r. 

As in the dying parent dies the child, 

Virtue with immortality, expires. 

Who tells me lie denies his soul iminortalf 

Whate'er his boast, lias told me, He's a knave. 

His d^yj 'tis, to lovs himself alone ; 

Nor care though mankind perish, if he smiles. 

Who thinks erc-long the man shall ivholly die, 

Is dead already ; nought but brute siu'vlves. 

And are there such P — Such candidates there are 
For vtore than death ; for utter loss of being ; 
Being, the basis of the Dkity ! 
Ask you the cmise ? — The cause they Avill not tell ; 
Nor need they : Oh the sorceries of sense ,• 
They woi-k this transformation on the !50ul. 
Dismount her like the serpent at the fall, 
Dis'Taoant her from her native wing (which soar'd 
Ere-while ethereal heights) and throw her down. 
To lick the dust, and cra-ol, in such a thought. 

Is it in words to paint you ? O ye fall'n ! 
Fall'n from the wings of reason, and of hope / 
Erect in stature, prone in appetite ! 
Patrons of pleasure, posting into pain ! 
Lovers of argument, averse to sense ! 
Boasters of lilierty, fast-bound in chains ! 
Lords -n the wid" creation, and the shame! 
^lore senseless than th' irrationals you scorn ! 
More 6ase than tliose you rule! Than those you 

i>ity, 
Far uio;'e imdone ! O ye most infamous 
Of beings, from superior dignity ! 
Deepest in woe from means of boundless bliss ! 
Ye eirst by blessings infinite ! Because 
Mo*t highly favour'd, most profoundly lost! 
Ye motley mass of contradiction strong! 
And are you, too, convhic'd, your souls fly off 
In exhalation soft, and die in air. 
From the full flood of evi ience against you ? 
In the coarse drudgei'ies and sinks of sense. 
Your souls have quite m orn out the make of Heav'n 
By vice new-cast, and creatures of youi' own : 



180 . THE COMPLAINT. 

But though you can deform, you can't destroy ; 
To curse, not wicreate, is all your pow'r. 

Lorenzo ! tliis black brotherhood renounce ; 
Renounce St. Evremont,* and read St. Paid. 
Ere rapt by miracle, by reason Aving'd, 
His mounting mind made long abode in Heav'n. 
This isfreeihinking, unconfin'd to yiarts. 
To send the soul, on curious travel bent, 
Through all the pi'ovinces of human thought ; 
From first to last (but last there none shall be !) 
To dart her flight, through the whole sphere of 

man; 
Of this vast universe to make the tour ; 
In each recess of space and time, at home ; 
Familiar with her wondei-s ; diving deep ; 
And, like a pi-ince of boundless int'rests there. 
Still most ambitious of the most remote ; 
To look on truth unbroken, and entire ; 
Truth in the system, the full orb ; m hei-e truths 
By truths enlighten'd, and sustain'd, aftbrd 
An arch-like, strong foundation, to support 
Th' incumbent weight of absolute, complete 
Conviction ; here, tlie more we press, we stand 
More firm ; who most examine, most believe. 
Parts, like half-sentences, confound ; the -^vhole 
Conveys the sense, and God is understood ; 
Who not in fragments Mrites to human race : 
Read his xuhole volume, sceptic ! then reply. 

Tliis, this is thinking free, a thought that graspr- 
Beyond a grain, and looks beyond an hour. 
Turn up thine eye, survey this midnight scene ; 
What are earth's kingdoms, to yon boundless oi*bs. 
Of human souls, one day, the destin'd range ? 
And what yon boundless orbs, to godlike man? 
Those num'rous worlds that tiirong the firmament, 
A.nd ask more space in Heav'n, can roll at large 
fn inan^s capacious thought, and still leave room 
For ampler orbs ; for 7ie-M creations, there. 
Jan such a soul contract itself, to gripe 

* An Infidel writer. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 181 

A point of no dimension, of no weight ? 
It can ; it does ; the world is such a point : 
And, of that point, how small a part enslaves ! 

How small a part ! — of nothing, shall I say ? 
Why not ? — Friendsy our chief treasure ! How they 

di-op ! 
LtrciA, Nakcissa fair. Philander, gone ! 
The grave, like fabled Cerberus, has op'd 
A triple mouth ; and, in an awful voice. 
Loud calls my soul, and utters all I sing. 
'How the world falls to pieces round aboutus ! 
And leaves us in a ruin of our joy ! 
What says this transportation of my friends ! 
It bid§ me love the place where now they dwell, 
And scorn this wretched spot, they leave so poor. 
Eternity's vast ocean lies before thee ; 
There, there, Lorenzo ! thy Clarissa sails. 
Give thy mind sea-room ; keep it wide of earth. 
That rock of souls immortal ,• cut thy cord ; 
Weigli anchor ; spread thy sails ; call ev'iy wind ; 
Eye thy ^veat pole-star ; make the land of life. 

Two kinds of life has double-natiir^ d man. 
And two of death ; the last far more severe. 
Life animal is nurtur'd by the sun ; 
Thrives on his bounties, triumphs in his beams. 
Life rational subsists on higher food. 
Triumphant in his beams, who made the day. 
When we leave that sun, and are left by thi^ 
(The fate of all who die in stubborn guilt,) 
'Tis utter darkness ; strictly double death. 
We sink by no judicial stroke of Heav'n, 
But Nature's course ; as sui'e as plummets fall. 
Since Cod, or man, must alter, ere they meet 
(For light and darkness blend not in one sphere,} 
'Tis manifest, Lorenzo ! who must change. 

If, then, that double death should prove thy lot. 
Blame not the bowels of the Deity ; >, ; 

Man shall be blest, as far as man permits. 
Not man alone, all rationals, Heav'n arms 
With an illustrious, but tremendous pow'r 
To counteiact its own most gracious ends ; 



182 THE COMPLAINT. 

And this of strict necessity, not choice : 

That pow'r doixy'd, meJi, angels Avere no more, 

"3ut passive engines, void of praise, or blame. 

A nature rational implies the pow'r 

Of being bless'd, or wretched, as we please ; 

Else idle reason would have nought to do ;j 

And he that would be barr'd capacity 

Of pain, courts incapacity of bliss. 

Heav'n tvills our happiness, aUo~vs our doom ; 

Invites us ardently, but not compels ; 

Heav'n but persuades, almighty Man decrees ; 

Man is the maker of imtnorial fates. 

Mail ialls by man, ii Jtyially he falls ; 

And fall he m^.ist, v.ho learns from death alone, 

The dreadful secret — That he lives for ever. 

Why this to thee ! Thee yet, perhaps in doubt 
Of second iife ! But wherefore doubtful still ! 
Eter.icl life is Nature's ardent wish : 
What ardently we wish, we soon believe ; 
Thy tardy faith deciares tliat wish destroy'd : 
What has destroy'd it ! — Shall I tell thoe, what ? 
When y-ar'til the future, 'tis no longer lo^sh^d ; 
And, when unwisa'd, we strive to (Usbelieve. 
** T.hitJ 'nfidelity oar g'uilt betrays.'' 
Nor tlijit the sole detection ! Blush Lorenzo ! 
Blush for hypocrisy, if not for guilt. 
The fu:nrefear\l? — an Lifidel I and fear ! 
Fear v/hat i' a dream ? z fable ? — ^How thy dread 
Unroilling evivleuce, and therefore sLrongy 
Affords my cause an undesigned support ! 
How disbelief affirms, what it denies ! 
*• It, unatvares asserts immortcd life." 
Scrprising! T)i fidelity turns out 
A creed, and a confe^siori of our nns : 
Apostates, thv.s, are orthodox 'livines. 

Lo.?E>rzo ! V. :th Lore^'zo clitsh no more : 
Nor l-^nger a transparent vizor wear. 
Thinlv'st thou. Religion only has htr mask ? 
Our Infidels are Satan's hypocrites, 
Pretend the worst, and at the bottom, fail. 
When visited by thought (thought will intrude) 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 183 

Like him they serve, they tremble and believe. 

Is their hypocrisy so foul as this ? 

So fatal to the Avelfore of the world ? 

WHiat detestation^ what contempt, their due '. 

And, if unpaid, be thank'd for their escape 

That Chiistian candour they strive hard to scoi'n. 

If not for that asylum, they might find 

A hell on earth ; nor 'scape a worse belmv. 

With insolence, and impotence of thought, 
Instead o^ racking fancy, to refute, 
Refo- n thy manners, and the truth enjoy. 
Hut snail I dare confess the dire I'esult ? 
Can thy proud reason bi-ook so black a brand r 
From purer manners, to sublimer faith. 
Is Nature's unavoidable ascent ; 
An honest Dei^t, where the Gospel shines, 
Matur'd to nobler, in the Christian ends. 
When that blest >l ange arrives, e'en cast aside 
This song superfluo is ; Life iminortal strikes 
Conviction, in. a flood of light divine. 
A Christian dwell < Uke UniEi,,* iu the sun. 
Meridian evidence ] uts doubt to flight; 
And ardent iiope anv'tipates the skies. 
Of that bright sun, Lorenzo ! scale the sphere, 
■ Tis easy; it invites tiiee ; it descends 
From Heav'n to woo and waft thee whence it came ! 
R'-ad and revere the mcred page ; a page 
Where triumphs inii ^nrt lity ; a page 
Which not the whole creation could produce ; 
Which not the conflagration shall destroy ; 
In Nature's ruins not one letter lost : 
'Tis p^'inted in the mind of gods, for ever. 

In proud disdain of what e'en gods adore. 
Dost smile ? Poor wretch ! thy guardian angf I weeps. 
Angels, and men, assent to what I sing ; 
iVi^ts smile, and thank me for my midnight dream. 
How vicious hearts fume frenzy to the brain ! 
Parts push us on to pride, and pride to shame ; 
Pert infidelity is ■ivii\<i cockade. 
To gri.ce the' brazen brow that braves the skies, 

• Miltori's Paradise Lost. 



184 THE COMPLAINT. 

By loss of being-, dreadfully secure. 

LoREXZO ! if thy doetrine wins the day, 

And drives ray dreams, defeated, from the field ; 

If this is all, if earth tiJiJial scene. 

Take heed ; stand fast ; be sure to be a knave ; 

A knave in gi-ain ! ne'er deviate to the right : 

Shouldst thou be good — how infinite thy loss ! 

Ghdlt only makes annihilatiGn gain. 

Bless'd scheme ! -which life deprives of comfort, 

death 
Of hope ; and which vice only, recommends. 
If so ; lohere Infidels ! your bait thrown out 
To catch weak converts ? Where your lofty boast 
Of zeal for virtue, and of love to man ? 
AxxiuiLATioN ! I confess, in these. 

What can reclaim you P Dare I hope profound 
Philosoptiers the converts of a song ? 
Yet know, its title * flatters you ; not me ; 
Yours be the praise to make my title good ; 
Mine, to bless Heav'n, and triumph in yo^ir praise. 
But since .so pestilential your disease. 
Though sov'reign is the med'cine I prescribe. 
As yet, I'll neither triumph, nor despair : 
But hope, ere long, my midnight dream will wake 
Your hearts, and teach you 'wisdom— <o be wise : 
For Avhy should souls "mmoital, made for bliss, 
E'er wish (and wish in vain !) that souls could die ^ 
What ne'er can die. Oh ! grant to live ; and crown 
The wish, and aiinj and labour of the skies ; 
Increase, and enter on the joys of Heav'n : 
Thus shall my title pass a sacred seal. 
Receive an imprimatur from above. 
While angels shout — An Infidel Beclaim'd J 

To close, Lorenzo ! Spite of all my pains. 
Still seems it strange, that thou shouldst live for 

ever ? 
Is it. less strange that thou shouldst live at all ? 
This is a miracle ; and that no more. 
Who gave beginning, can exclude an end, 

• The Infidel Reclaimed. 



NIGHT SEVENTH. 185 

Deny thou art : Then, doubt if thou shalt be. 
A mu'aele with miracles enclos'd, 
Is man : And starts his faith at what is strange ? 
What less than wonders, from the toonderful ; 
What less than miracles fi^om Gon, can flow ? 
^dmit a God— that mystery Supreme ! 
That cause uncaus'd ! All other wonders cease ; 
Nothing is marvellous for JTiin to do : 
Deny him — all is mystery besides ; 
Millions of mysteries ' each darker fai'. 
Than that thy wisdom would, unwisely, shun. 
If -weak thy faith, why choose the hai'der side i 
We nothing know, but what is marvellous ; 
Yet what is inarvellous, we can't believe. 
So weak our reason, and so great our God, 
What most sui-prises in the sacred page^ 
Or full as strange, or strangei', must be true. 
Faith is not reaso?i's labour, but repose. 

To faith, and virtne, why so backward, man ? 
From hence ; The present strongly strikes us all ; 
The future faintly : Can we, then, be men .? 
If men, Lorenzo ! the reverse is right. 
Reason is man's peculiar : Setise, the brute's. 
The present is the scanty realm of se7ise ; 
The future, reason'' s empire unconfin'd : 
On that expending all her god-like pow'r. 
She plans, pro^^des, expatiates, triumphs, tJiere ; 
There builds her J}lessings ; there expects her 

praise ; 
And nothing asks oi fortune, or of men ; 
*And what is reason Y Be she thus defin'd : 
Reason is upHght stature in the soiil. 
Oh ! be a man ! — and strive to be a God. 
** For what ? fthou sayst :) To damp the joys of 

life .?" 
No ; to give heart and substance to thy joys. 
That tyrant, hope, mark, how she domineers ; 
She bids us quit realities, for dreams : 
Safety and peace, for hazaixl and alarm ; 
That tyrant o'er the tyrants of the soul. 
She bids ambition quit its taken prize. 



186 THE COMPLAINT. 

Spurn the luxuriant branch on which it sits, 
Though bearing cro'wns, to spring at distant game ; 
And plunge in toils and dangers— for repose. 
If hope precarious, and if things, when gain'd. 
Of little moment, and as little stay, 
Can sweeten toils and dangers into joys ; 
"What then, that hope, which nothing can defeat. 
Our leave unask'd ? Rich hope of boundless bliss ! 
Bliss, past man^s pow'r to paint it ! time's^ to close ! 

Tliis hope is earth's most estimable prize : 
This is man's portion, while no more than man : 
Hope, of all passions, most befriends us liere ; 
Passions of prouder name befriend us less. 
Joy has her tears ; and transport has her death ; 
Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, 
Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenes ; y 
Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys : 
'Tis all, our present state can safely bear. 
Health to the fx-ame ! and vigour to the mind ! 
A joy attemper'd ! a chastised delight ! 
Like the fair summer evening, mild, and sweet 1 
*Tis man's full cup ; his paradise below ! 

A bless'd hereafter, then, or hop'd, or gain'd. 
Is all ; our ivhole of happiness ; Full proof, 
I chose no trivial or inglorious theme. 
And know, ye foes to song ! (well-meaning men, 
Though quite forgotten * half your bible's praise !) 
Important truths, in spite of verse, may please : 
Grave minds you praise ; nor can you praise \.<>r 

much : 
If there is weight in an Eternity, 
Let the ^rave listen ; and be graver still 

• The Poetical parts of it 



COMPLAINT. 

NIGHT EIGHTH. 

VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 

OR 

THE MAN OF THE WORLD ANSWERED. 

In which are considered, the Love of this Life ; the 
Ambition and Pleasure, with the Wit and Wisdom 
of the World. 

To the Right Honourable Henrj' Pelham. 



^^AnD has all nature, then, espous'd my part ? 
nave I brib'd Heav'n and earth, to plead against 

thee ! 
And is thy soul itnmortal ? — ^What remains ? 
All, all, LoREXzo ; make immortal, bless'd. 
Unbless'd immortals ! what can shock us more ? 
And yet, LoREJfZO still affects the -world ; 
There, stows his treasure ; thence, his title draws, 
Man of the -world/ (for such wouldst thou be' 

cali'd ;) 
And art thou proud of that inglorious style ? 
Proud of reproach ? For a reproach it wa>^. 



iM THE COMPLAINT. 

In ancient days ; and Christian — in an age. 
When men were men, and not asham'd of^eav'B, 
Fir'd their ambition, as it crown'd their joy. 
Sprinkled with dews from the Castalian font. 
Fain would I re-baptize thee, and confer 
A purer spirit, and a nobler name. 

Thy fond attachments, fatal, and inflam'd. 
Point out my path, and dictate to my song : 
To thee, the world hoio fair ! How strongly strikes 
Ambition / and gay pleasure stronger still ! 
Thy triple bane ! the triple bolt, that lays 
Thy virtue dead ! Be these my triple theme ; 
Nor shall thy ivit or luisdom be forgot. 

Common the theme ; not so the song ; if she 
My song invokes, Urania, deigns to smile. 
The charm that chains us to the world, her foe. 
If she dissolves, the rnan of earth, at once, 
Starts from his trance, and sighs for other scenes : 
Scenes, where these sparks of night, these stars 

shall shine 
Unnumber'd suns (for all things, as they ar<?. 
The bless' d behold ) and, in one glory, pour 
Their blended blaze on man's astonish'd sight ; 
A blaze — the least illustrious object there. 
LoRE^fzo ! since eternal is at hand, 
To swallow time's ambitions ; as the vast 
Leviathan, the bubbles vain, that ride 
High on the foammg billow ; what avail 
High titles, high descent, attainments high. 
If unattain'd our highest P O Lorenzo ! , 

What lofty thoughts, these elements above. 
What tow'ring hopes, what sallies from the Sun, 
What grand surveys of destiny divine. 
And pompous presage of unfathom'd fate. 
Should roll in bosoms, where a spirit burns. 
Bound for eternity / In bosoms read 
By Hi?72, who foibles in archangels sees ! 
On human hearts He bends a jealous eye. 
And marks, and in Heav'n's i-egister enrols. 
The rise, and pi'Ogress, of each option there ; 
Sacred to doomsday ! TTiati the page unfolds. 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 189 

And spreads us to the gaze of gods and men. 

And what an option, O Lorenzo ! thine ? 

This world ! and this, unrivall'd by the skies ! 

A world, where lust of pleasure, gi-andeur, gold. 

Three Daemons that divide its realms between them. 

With strokes jjlternate buffet to and fro 

Man's restless heart, their sport, their flying ball ; 

'Till, with the ^ddy circle sick and tir'd', 

It pants for peace, and drops into despair. 

Such is the world Lorenzo sets above 

That glorious promise^ angels were estoemM 

Too mean to bring ; a promise, their Ador'd, 

Descended to communicate, and press. 

By counsel, miracle, life, death, on man. 

Such is the world Lorenzo's Avisdom woos. 

And on its tliorny pillow seeks repose ; 

A pillow, which, hke opiates ill-prepar'd. 

Intoxicates but not composes ; fills 

The visionary mind with gay chimeras, 

All the wild trash of sleep, without the rest ; 

What vnfeig-n'd travel, and what dreams of joy ! 

How frail, men, things 1 How momentary both ! 
Fantastic chase of shadows hunting shades ! 
The g'uy, the buf<y, equal, tliough unlike ; 
Equal in Avisdom, difterentiy wise ! 
I'hrough flovv'ry meadows, and through dreary 

wastes, 
.One bustling, and one dancing, into death. 
Tiiere's not a dai/, bat, to the man of thought, 
Betrays some secret, that throws new i-eproach 
On life, and makes him sick of seeing more. 
The scenes of bits''ness tell us—" What ar<^' men ;'' 
The scenes of pleasure — " ^Vhat is all beside :" 
7'hey^e, others we despise ; and /iere, ourselves. 
Amid disgust eternal, dwells delight.'' 
'Tis approbation strikes the string of joy. 

What wondrois prize has kindled this career. 
Stuns with the din, and choaks us with the dust, 
On life's gar stage, one inch above the grave .■' 
The proud run up and down in quest of eyes ; 
The setisna!, in pursuit of .somethiue: worse : 



190 THE COMPLAINT. 

The grave, of gold ; the politic, of pow*r ; 

And all, of other butterflies as vain ! 

As eddies draw things frivolous, and light. 

How is man's heart by vanity drawn in ! -* 

On the swift circle of returning toys, 

Whirl'd, straw-like, round and round, and then in- 

gulph'd. 
Where gay delusion darkens to despair ! 

" This is a beaten track." — 'Is this a ti'ack 
Should not be beaten 1 Never beat enough, 
'Till enough learnt the truths it would inspire. 
Shall truth be silent, because ioWy frowns ? 
Turn the world's histoiy ; what find we tliere, 
'But fortune^ s sports, or nature's ciniel claims. 
Or xvoma?i's artifice, or ?na?z'5 revenge. 
And endless inhumanities on man >' 
Fame's trumpet seldom sounds, but, like the knell. 
It brings bad tidings ! How it hourly blows 
Man's misadventures round the list ning world 1 
Man is the tale of narrative old time ; 
Sad tale ! which high as Paradise begins : 
As if the toil of travel to delude. 
From stage to stage, in his eternal round. 
The davH, his daughters, as they spin our hours 
On fortune'' s Avheel, where accident unthought. 
Oft, in a moment, snaps life's strongest thread. 
Each, in her turn, some tragic story tells, 
With now and then, a wretched farce between ; 
And fills his chronicle with human woes. 

Time's daughters, true as those of men, deceive U3 ; 
Not one, but puts some cheat on all mankind : 
While in t\\ii\v father's bosom, not yet ours. 
They flatter our fond hopes ; and promise much 
Of amiable ; but hold him not o'erwise, 
Who dares to trust them ; and laugh round the 

year. 
At still-confiding, still-confounded man ; 
Confiding, though confounded ; hoping on. 
Untaught by trial, unconvinc'd by proof. 
And ever looking for the never-seen : 
Life to the last, like harden'd felons, lies ; 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 191 

Nor owns itself a cJieat, till it expires. 

Its little joys go out by one aad one. 

And leave poor man, at length, in perfect night ; 

Niglit, darker than what, ?ww, involves tlie pole. 

b Tiiotif, who dost permit these ills to fall. 
For gracious ends, and wouldst that man should 

raourn ! 
O Taocr, whose hand this goodly fabric fram'd. 
Who know'st it best, and wouldst that man should 

know ! 
What is this sublunary world ? A vapour ! 
A vapour all it holds ; itself, a vapour ; 
From the damp bed of chaos, by thy beam 
Exlial'd, ordain'd to swim its destin'd hour 
In ambient air, then melt, and disappear. 
Karth's days are mimber'd, nor remote her doom ; 
As mortal, tho' less transient, than her sons ; 
Yet they doat on her, as the world and they 
Were both eternal, solid ; Thou ! a dream. 

They doat, on what .'' Immortal views apart, 
A region of outsides ! a land of shadows ! 
A fruitful field of floAv'r}' promises ! 
A wilderness of joys ! perplex'd with doubts. 
And sharp with thorns ! A troubled ocean, spread 
With bold adventurers, their all on board ; 
No second hope, if here their fortune frowns ; 
Frown soon it must. Of various rates they sail, 
Of ensigns various ; all alike in this, 
All restless, anxious ; toss'd with hopes and fears. 
In calmest skies ; obnoxious all to storm ! 
And stormy the most gen'ral blast of life : 
All bound for happiness ; yet few provide' 
TJie chart of knotuledge, pointing v, here it lies ; 
Or virtue's helm, to shape the course design'd : 
All, more or less, capricious fate lament, 
Now lifted by the tide, and now resox'b'd. 
And farther from their wishes than before : 
All, more or less, against each other dash. 
To mutual hurt, by gusts of passion driv'n. 
And suff'ring more from folly than from fate. 

Ocean ! Thou dreadful and tumultuous borne 



192 THE COMPLAINT 

Of dangers, at eternal M-^^ar Avith man ! 
Death's capital, Avhere most he domineers, 
With all his chosen terrors froAvning round, 
(Though lately feasted high at Albion's cost,*) 
Wide op'ning, and loud-roaring still for more ! 
Too faithful mirror ; how dost thou reflect 
The melancholy face of human life ! 
The strong resemblance tempts me farther still : 
And, haply, Britain may be deeper struck 
By moral truth, m such a mirror seen. 
Which Nature holds for ever at her eye. 

Self-flatter'd, unexperienc'd, high in hope, 
/Vhen young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers 

gay, 
AVe cut our cable, launch into the world. 
And fondly dream each wind and star owy friend ; 
All, in some darling enterprise embark'd : 
But where is he can fathom its event ? 
Amid a multitude of ai-tless hands, 
Jliiin's sure perquisite, her lawful prize, 
So77ie steer aright ; but the black blast blows hard. 
And puffs them wide of hope ; With hearts of proof, 
Full against wind and tide, so7ne win their way ; 
And when strong effort has deserv'd the port. 
And tugg'd it into view, 'tis won ! 'tis lost I 
Though strong their oar, still stronger is their fate : 
They strike ; and while they triumph, they expire. 
In stress of weather, 7nost : Some sink outright ; 
O'er them, and o'er their names, the billows close ; 
To-morrow knows not they were ever born. 
Others a short memorial leave behind, 
I^ike a flag floating, when the bark's ingailph'd ; 
It floats a moment, and is seen no more ; 
Ojie Cdesar lives ; a thousand are forgot. 
Mow few, beneath auspicious planets born ! 
(Darlings of Providence ! fond fate's elect !) 
With swelling sails make good the promis'd port. 
With all their wishes freighted ! Yet even these. 
Freighted with all their wishes, soon complain ; 

' • Admiral Balcben. & c 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 193 

Free from misfortune, not from Nature free. 
They still are tnen ; and when is man secure P 
As fatal time, as storm ! the rush of years 
Beats down their strength ; theu' numberless escapes 
In ruin end : And, now, their proud success 
But plants iieio terrors on the victor's brow : 
AVhat pain to quit the world, just made their own, 
Theu' uest so deeply down'd, and built so high ! 
Too low they build, who build beneath the stars. 

Woe then apart (if woe apart can be ' 
From mortal man,) and fortune at our nod. 
The gay, rich, great, triumphant, and august. 
What are they ? — The most happy (strange to say !) 
Convince me most of human miserj^ : 
What are they ? — Smiling wretches of to-morrow ! 
More wretched then, than e'er their slaves can be ; 
Their treach'rous blessings, at the day of need. 
Like other faithless friends, unmask, and sting : 
Then, what i>rovoking indigence in wealth ! 
What aggravated impotence in pow'r ! 
High titles, theu, what insult to their pain ! 
If that sole anchor, equal to tlie waves. 
Immortal hope ! defies not the rude storm. 
Takes comfox't from the foaming billow's rage. 
And makes a welcome harbour of the tomb. 

Is tlxis a sketch of what thy soul admires I 
*' But here (thou say'st) the miseries of life 
Are huddled in a group. A more distinct 
Survey, perhaps, might bring tliee better news.'- 
Look on life's stages ; They speak plainer still ; 
The plainer they, the deeper wilt thou sigh. 
Look on thy lovely boy ; in him behold 
The best that can befal the best on earth ; " 
The boy has virtue by his mother's side : 
Yes, on Fi.orei,lo look : A Fatlier's heart 
Is tender, though the* magi's is made of stone; 
The truth, through such a medium seen, may make 
Impression deep, and fondness prove thy friend. 

Florello, lately cast on this rude coast 
A helpless iiifant ; now a heedless child ; 
To poor Clahissa's throes, thy care succeeds ; 
I 



194 THE COMPLAINT. 

Care full of love, and yet severe as hate ! 

O'er thy soul's joy how oft thy fo:;(luess frowns! 

Needful austerities liis will restrain ; 

As thorns fence in the tender plant from harm. 

As yet, his reason cannot go alone ; 

But asks a sterner nurse to lead it on. 

His little heart is often terrify 'd ; 

The blush of morning, in his cheek turns pale ; 

Its pearly dew-drop trembles in his eye ; 

His harmless eye ! and drowns an ancfel thex-e. 

Ah ! what avails his innocence ? The task 

Eiijoin'd must discipHne his early pow'rs ; 

He learns to sigh, e'er he is known to sin ; 

Guiltless, and sad ! A wi-etch before the fall ! 

How cruel this ! more cruel to forbear. 

Our Nature such, with necessaiy pains. 

We purchase prospects of precarious peace : 

Though not a Father, this might stL-al a sigh. 

Suppose him disciplin'd aright (if not, 
'Twill sink our poor accovmt to poorer still ;) 
Ripe from the tutor, proud of liberty. 
He leaps enclosure, bounds into the Avorld ; 
The woi'ld is taken, after ten year's toil. 
Like ancient Troy, and all its joys his own. 
Alas ! the world's a tutor more severe ; 
Its lessons hard, and ill deserve his pains ; 
Unteaching all his virtuous Nature taught. 
Or books (fair Viitue's advocates) insj.'ir'd. 

For who receives him into public life ? 
JWe/i of the -world, the terrse-fiiial breed, 
Welcome the modest stranger to their sphere, 
fWhich glitter'd lo:^g, at distance, in his sight,) 
And in their hospitable ai-ms, enclose : 
Men, who think nought so strong of the romance, 
So rank knight-errant, as a real friend : 
Men, that act up to reasoiCs golden rule. 
All weakness of ajfection quite subdu'd : 
Men, that would blush at being tho'ight sincere, 
And feign, for glory, \\\g fe~u} faults they want; 
That love a lie, where truth would pay as Avell; 
Aa if, to them, vice shone her own reward. 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 195 

"LoKEXZO ! canst thou bear a shocking sight ? 

Such, for Flouello's sake, 'tAvill now appear : 

See, the steel'd tiles of seasoiiM veterans, 

TraiiiM to the world, in burnish'il falsehood bright ; 

Deep in the fatal stratagems of peace ; 

All soft sensation in the thronj^ riibb'd off; 

All their keen purpose, in polr:eness sheath'd ; 

His friends eternal — dui'ing interest ,- 

His foes implacable— when worth their while ; 

At war with ev'ry welfare, but their own ; 

As wise as Lxjcifkk ; and half as good ; 

And by whom none, but Lctcikkh, can gain — 

Naked, through these (so common fate ordains,) 

Naked of heai't, his cruel coorse he iiins. 

Stung out of all mosL amiable in life, 

Prompt truth, and open thought, and smiles un- 
feign'd ; 

Affection, as his species, wide diffiis'd ; 

Nuble presumptions to mankind's renown ; 

IngenuoiS trust, and confiileuce of love. 

These claims to Joy (if mortals joy might claim^ 

Will cost him many a sigh ; 'till time and pains. 
From the slow mis!:ress of this school. Experience, 
And her assistant, pausing, pale Distriist, 
Purchase a dear-bought clue, to lead his youth 
Through serpentine obliquities of hfe. 
And the dai'k labyrinth of human hearts. 
And happy, if the clue shall come so cheap ; 
For, while we learu to fence with public guilt, 
Full oft we feel its foul contagion too. 
If less than heav'nly virtue is our guard. 
Thus, a strange kind of curs'd necessity 
Brings down the sterling temper of his soul. 
By base alloy, to bear tlie current stamp, 
Selow, call'd wisdom ; sinks him into safety ; 
And brands him into credit with the world f 
Where specious titles dignify disgrace ; 
And Nature's injuries are arts of life ; 
Where brighter reason prompts to bolder crimes ; 
And heav'iiiy talents make infernal hearts ; 
That unsurmouutable e.\trerae of guilt ! 



196 T HE COMPLAINT. 

Poor IMicHTATEt ! who labour'd hard his plan. 
Forgot, that genius need not go to school ; 
Forgot, that man, without a tutor wise, 
His plan had practis'd, long before 'twas writ. 
The world's all title-page, there's no contents ; 
The world's all /ace,- the man who shews his lieart. 
Is hooted for his nudities, and scorn 'd. 
A man 1 knew, who liv'd upon a S7nile ; 
And well it fed him ; lie look'd plump and fair; 
Wliile rankest A^enom foam'd through ev'ry vein. 
LoREXzo ! what 1 tell thee, take not ill ! 
Living, he fawn'd on ev'ry fool alive : 
And, dying, curs'd the friend on whom he liv'd. 
To such proficients thou art half a saint. 
In foreign realms (for tliou hast traveli'd far) 
How curious to contemjdate two state-rooks. 
Studious tlieir nests to feather in a trice, 
With all the JVecromantics of their art. 
Playing the game oi faces on each other. 
Making court sweet-meats of their latent gall. 
In foolish hope, to steal each other's trust ; 
Both cheating, both exulting, both deceiv'd : 
And, sometimes, both (let earth rejoice) undone / 
Their parts we doubt not ; but be that their shame ; 
Shall men of talents, fit to rule mankind. 
Stoop to mean wiles, that would disgrace a fool ! 
And lose the thanks of those few friends they serve ? 
For who can thank the man, he cannot see '^ 

Why so much cover P It defeats itself. 
Ye that know all things ! know ye not men's hearts 
Are therefore known, because they are conceal'd ? 
For why conceuVd? — The cause they need not tell, 
I give him joy, that's aukward at a lie ; 
Whose feeble nature truth keeps still in awe ; 
His incapacity is his renown. 

'Tis great, 'tis manly, to disdain disg^dse ; 
It shews our spirit, or it proves our strength. 
Thou say'st 'tis needfal : Is it therefore right? 
Howe'r, I grant it some small sign of grace. 
To strain at an excuse : And wouldst thou then 
Escape that cruel need? Thou may'st, with ease ; 



KIGHT EIGHTH. 197 

Think no post needful that demands a knave. 
When late our ci\ii hehn was shitting hands. 
So P thought : Think better if you can. 

But this, how rare ! the public path of life 
Is dirty : — 'Yet, allow tliat dirt its due, ^ ■ 

It makes the noble mind more noble still : 
The world's no neuter ,- it will wound, or save ; 
Our virtue quench, or indignation fire. 
Ton say, the world, well-known, will make a man ; 
The world, well-known, will give our heai'ts to 

Heav'n, 
Or make us Ddemon^, long before we die. 

To shew how fair the world (jhy mistress) shines. 
Take either part, sure ills attend the choice ; 
Sure, though not equal, detriment ensues. 
Not virtue s self is deity'd on earth ; 
Virtue has her relapses, conflicts, foes ; 
Foes, that ne'er fail to make her feel their hate. 
Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. 
True ; friends to virtue, last^ and least, complain ; 
But if thei/ sigh, can others hope to smile .'' 
If -wisdom has her miseri -s to mourn. 
How can \iO0v folly lead a happy life ? 
And if both suffer, A\hat has earth to boast, 
Where he's 7tiost happy, who the least laments ? 
Where much, much patience, the most cn\y'd state, 
And some forgiveness, needs the best of friends ? 
For friend, or happy life, who looks not higher. 
Of neither shall he find the shadow here. 

The world's sworn advocat(i, m ithout a fee, 
LoRKXZO smartly, with a smile, replies : 
** Thus far thy song is right ; and all must own, 
Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. — 
And joys peculiar who to vice denies ? 
If vice it is, with Nature to comply : 
If pride, and sense, are so predominant. 
To check, not overcome them, makes a saint ; 
Can Nature in a plainer voice pi'oclaim 
Pleasure, and Glory, the chief good of man r" 

Can pride and sensuality, rejoice ? 
From purity of thought, all Pleasure spi-ings ; 



198 THE COMPLAINT. 

And, from an humble spirit, all our peace. 

AmbiCion, pleasure ! let us talk of these : 

Of these, the Porch and Acaukmy, talk'd; 

Of these, each following age had much to say j 

Yet unexhausted, still, the needful theme. 

Who talks of these^ to mankind all at once 

He talks ; for where's the saint from either free ? 

Are these thy refuge ? — No ; these rush upon thee \ 

Thy vitals seize, and. Vulture-like, devour : 

I'll try, if I can pluck thee from thy rock, 

Prometheus! from this barren bail of eartli ; 

If Reason can unchain thee, thou are free. 

And, first, thy Caucasus, anxbition calls; 
Mountain of torments i Eminence of woes ! 
Of coiu'ted woes ! and courted through mistake ! 
'Tis not ambition charms thee ; 'tis a cheat 

Will make thee start, as H at his ^Moor. 

Dost grasp at greatness ? First, know what it is : 

Tiiink'st thou thy greatness in distinction lies ? 

Not in the feather, wave it e'er so high. 

By fortune stuck to mark us from the throng. 

Is glori/ lodg'd : 'Tis lodg'd in the reverse ; 

In that which joins, in that which equals all, 

The monarch, and his slave ; — " A deathless soul, 

Unbounded prospect, and immortal kin, 

A Father God, and brothers in the skies ;" 

Elder, indeed, in time ; but less remote 

In excellence, perhaps, than thought by man ; 

AVhy gi'eater what can fall, than Avhat can rise ? 

If still delirious, now, Lohe^zo ! go ; 
And with thy full-blown brothei's of the world. 
Throw scorn around thee ; cast it on thy slaves ; 
Thy slaves, and equals : How scorn, cast on them. 
Rebounds on thee ! If man is mean, as 7nan, 
Art thou a God ? Iffortime makes him so. 
Beware the consequence : A maxim that. 
Which draAvs a monstrous picture of mankind. 
Where, in the drapery, the ?na7i is lost; 
Externals flutt'rlng, and the soul forgot. 
Thy greatest glory, when dispos'd to boast. 
Boast that aloud, in which thy servants share. 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 199 

We Avlsely strip the steed we mean to buy : 
.ludge we, in their caparisons, oi men? 
It nought avails thee, where, but whaty thou art ; 
All tlie distinctions of this little life 
Are quite Cutaneoris, foreign to the man. 
When, through deatli's streights, earth's subtle ser- 
pents creep, 
W^hich wriggle into wealth, or climb renown, 
As crooked Satan the forbidden tree ; 
They leave their party-colour'd robe behind. 
All that now glittere, while they rear aloft 
Their brazen crests, and hiss at us below. 
Of fortU!\e's/?;Q<s strip them, ytt alive; 
Strip them of body too ; nay, closer still. 
Away with all, Init moral, in their minds : 
And let, what then remains, impos. their name. 
Pronounce them weak, or worthy ; great, or meaii 
Jiow mean that snuft'of glory ybr^?</ie lights. 
And death ptits out ! Dost thou demand a test 
(A test, at once infallible and short) 
Of real greatness ? That man greatly Uves^ '. [ 

Whate'er his fate, or fame, who grtatij dies .' ''. i 
High flushM with hope, where heroes sliall despaift 
* If iliis a true critei'ion, many coiuts. 
Illustrious, might afford but few gi'ai.dees. 

Th' Almighty, from his throne, on earth surveyi 
Nought greater, tlian an honest humble heart j 
An humble heart, his residence ! pronounc'd 
His second seat ; and rival to the skies. 
The private path, the sei ret acts of men. 
If noble, far^the noblest of our lives ! 
How far above Lorenzo's glory sits 
Th' illustrious jMaster of a name nnkno~um ; 
"Whose worth unrivall'd, and uuwituess'd, loves 
Life's sacred shades, where gods converse with men ; 
And peace, beyond the worlds conception, smiles ! 
As thou (now dark) before we part, shalt see. 
But thy great soul this skndking glory scorns. 
Lorenzo's sick, but when Lorknzo's seen ; 
And, when he shrugs at public bus'aess, lies j 
D( ny'd the public eye, the public VQice, 



200 THE COMPLAINT. 

As if he liv'd on others' breath, he dies. 

Fain would he make the world his pedestal ; 

Mankind, the gazers, the sole figure, he. 
Knows he, that mankind praise ag-ainst their will, 
And mix as much detraction as they can ? 
Knows he, that faithless yhme her loMsper has. 
As well as trumpet ? That his vanity 
Is so much tickled from not hearing all ? 
Knows this all-knower, that from itch of praise. 
Or, from an itch more sordid, when he shines, 
Taking his country by five hundred ears ; 
Senates at once admu'e him, and despise. 
With modest laughter lining loud applause, 
Which makes the smile more mortal to his fame ? 
tii^fame, which (like the mighty Caesar) crown'd 
With laurels, in fall Senate, gi-eatly falls, 
By seeming friends, that honour, and destroy. 
We I'ise in glory, as we sink in pride ; 
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins ; 
And yet, mistaken beyond all mistake, 
TJhe blind LoRE?fZo's proud— of being proud ; 
Ajnd dreams himself ascending in his fall. 

' An eminence, though fancy'd, turns the brain ; 
All vice wants hellebore ; but of all vice, 
l^ride loudest calls, and for the largest bOAvl ; 
because, all other vice unlike, it flies, 
Iin yac?, the point, in ya?2Ci/ most pursu'd. 
Who court applause, oblige the world in this .• 
They gi-atify man's passion to refuse. 
Superior honour, when ass^im'd, is lost ; 
Ev'n good men turn banditti, and rejoice, 
IJke Koitli-Kan, in plunder of the proud. 

Though somewhat disconcerted, steady still 
To the world's cause, with half a face of joy, 
LoRE^rzo ci'ies — *' Be, then, ambition cast ; 
Ambition's dearer far, stands unimpeaoh'd. 
Gay pleasure ! Proud ambition is her slave ; 
For her, he soars at great, and hazards ill ; 
Por her, he fights, and bleeds, or overcomes ; 
\nd paves his way, with cro^Ans, to reach her smile 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 20 > 

Who can resist her charms?" — Or should? Lo- 

B.KXZO ! 

What mortal shall resist, v here angels yield ? 

Pleasure'' s the mistress of ethereal pow'x'S ; 

For her contend' t!ie rival gods above ; 

Pleasure's the mistress of the world below ; 

And well it is for man that pleasure charms j 

How would all stagnate, but for pleasure's ray ! ^Hji 

How would the frozen stream of action cease ! '- 

What is the pulse of this so busy world ? 

'I'he love o( pleasure : That, through ev'ry vein. 

Throws motion, warmth ; and shuts out death from 
life. ♦ 

Though various are the tempers of iiiankind. 

Pleasure's gay family holds all in chains : 

Some )Tiost affect the black ; and some the fair ; 

Some, honest pleasures. conrX.; and some, obscene. 

Pleasures obscerte are vai'ious, as the throng 

Of passions, that can err in human hearts ; 

Mistake their objects, or transgress their bounds. 

Think you there's but oiie whoi-edom ? Whore- 
dom, all 

Jitit when our reason licences delight. 

Dost doubt, LoRKXzo ? Thou shalt doubt no more. 

Thy father chides thy gallantries ; yet hugs 

An ugly, common harlot in the dark ; 

A rank adulterer with others' gold ; 

And that hag, vengeancey in a corner, charms. 

Hatred her brothel has, as Avell as love. 

Where horrid Epicures debauch in blood. 

Whatc'er the %iotive, pleasxire is the mark : 

For her, the black assassin draws his sai ord ; 

For her, dark statesmen trim then' midnight lamp. 

To which no single sacrifice may fall,; 

For her, the saint abstains ; the miser starves ; 

The stoic proud, for pleasure, pleasure scom'd j 

For her, affliction's daughters gi'ief indulge. 

And find, or hope, a luxury in tears ; 

For her, guilt, shame, toil, danger, we defy ; 

And, with an aim voluptuous, rush on death. 

'I'lius universal her despotic pow'r. 
i3 



C02 THE COMPLAINT. 

And as her empire wide, her i^raise is just. 
Patt-oj) of pleasure ! Doter on delight ! 
1 am thy rival ; pleasure I profess ; 
Pleasure the purpose of my gloomy song. 
Pleasure is nought but virtue's gayer name j 
I wrong her still, I rate her Avorih too low ; 
Virtue the root, and pleasure is the flow'r ; 
And honest Epiccrus' foes were fools. 

But this sounds harsh, and gives the ivise offence 
If o'erstrain'd wisdom still retains the na?ne. 
How knits austerity her cloudy brow. 
And blames, as bold, and hazardous, the praiae 
Oi pleasure, to mankind, unprais\^. too dear! 
Ye modern stoics / hear my soft reply : — 
Their senses men loill trust : "We can't impose : 
Or, if Me could, is imposition right ? 
Own honey siveet ; but, owning, add this siin^ ; 
** When mixt witii poison, it is deadly too." 
Truth never was indebted to a lie. 
Is nought but virtue to be prais'd, as good ? 
Why then is health preferr'd before tlisease ? 
What nature loves is good, without owr leave. 
And, where no futiu-e draw back cries, *' Beware ;" 
JPleasiire, though not from -virtue, shoiild prevtiil. 
'Tis balni to life, and gratitude to heav'n ; 
How cold our thanks for bounties unenjoy'd ! 
The love of pleasure is man's eldest-born, 
Born in his cradle, living to his tomb ; 
Wisdom, her younger sister, though more grave, 
Was meant to minlstery and not to mar. 
Imperial pleasure, queen of liuman he^ts. 
LoREXZO ! thou her majesty's renown'd. 
Though uncoift, counsel, learned in the xvorld / 
Wlio think' st thyself a jMuriiat, with disdain 
May'st look on me. Yet, my De^iosthexks !* 
Canst thou plead pleasure's cause as Avell as I ? 
Know'st thou her nature, purpose, parentage ? 
Attend my song, and tliou shalt know them all ; 
And knoAv thyself ; and know thyself to be 
(Strange truth !) the most absti-mious man alive. 
•I'ell not Calista ! she will laugh thee dead ; 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 203 

Or send thee to her hermitage with L— — — : 
Absiu'd presumption ! Thou, who never knew'st 
A serious thought! shalt thou dare dream of joy ? 
N') man e'er found a happy life by chance ; 
Or yav/n'd it into being, with a wish ; 
Or, with the snout of grov'ling appetite, 
li'er smelt it out, and ajrubb'd it from the dirt. 
An art it is, and must he learnt ; and learnt 
With unremitting eftort, or be lost ; 
And leave us perfect blockheads in our bliss. 
The clouds may drop down titles and estates ; 
Wealth may seek us ; but loisdom must he sought ; 
Sought before all ; but (how ludike all else 
V/e seek on earth !) tis never sought in vain. 

First, Pleasure's birth, rise, strength, and gran- 
deur see : 
Brought forth by wisdom, nurs'd by (UscipUne, 
By patience taught, by perseverance crown' d. 
She rears her head majestic ; round her throne. 
Erected in the bosom of the just. 
Each vii'tue, listed, forms her manly guard. 
For what are virtues ? (formidable name !) 
What, but tlie fountain, or defence of joy r 
•>Vliy, then, commanded ? need mankind commands. 
At once to merit, ami to make, their bliss f— ^ — » — 
Great Legislator ! scarce so groat, as kind I 
If men are rational, and love delight. 
Thy gracious law bat flatters human choice ; 
In the transgression lies the penalty ; 
And they the most indulge, who most obey. 

Oi pleasure, next, tlie final cause explore; 
Its mighty purpose, its important end. 
Not to turn human brutal, but to build 
Divine on human, pleasure came from heav'n. 
In aid to reason was the goddess sent ; 
To call up all its strength by such a charm. 
Pleasure, first, succours virtue ; in return. 
Virtue gives pleasure an eternal reign. 
Wliat, but the pleasure of food, friendship, faith, 

* A far.jous Grecian Orator. 



50i THE COMPIAINT. 

Suppoi'ts life natural, civil, and divine ? \ 
'Tis from the pleasure of repast, we live ; 
•'Tis from the pleasiu*e of applause, we please ; 
'Tis from the pleasure of belief, Ave pray ; 
(All pray'r would cease, if unbeliev'd tlie prize :) 
It serves ourselves, our species, and our God ; 
And to serve more, is past the sphere of man. 
Glide, then, for ever. Pleasure's sacred stream ! 
Through Eden as Euphrates ran, it ruiis, 
And fosters ev'ry growth of happy life ; 
Makes a new Eden where it flows — but such 
As must be lost, LoBEJifzo ! by thy fall. 

* What mean I, by thy fall?' — Thou'lt shortly see. 
While pleasure's nature is at large display'd : 
Already sung her origin and ends. 
Tliose glorious ends, by kind, or by degree, 
When pleasure violates, 'tis then a vice. 
And vengeance too ; it hastens into pain, 
From due i-efreshment, life, health, reason, joy ; 
Fi'om wild excess, pain, grief, distraction, death ; 
Heaven's justice this proclaims; and that, her love. 
Wliat greater evil can I wish my foe, 

Than his full draught of pleasure, from a cask 

Unbroach'd hy just authority, unguag'd 

By temperance, by reaso7i unrefiu'd ? 

A thousand daemons lurk within the lee, 

Heav'n, others, and ourselves ! uninjur'd these. 

Drink deep ; the deeper, then, the more divine ; 

Angels are angels from indulgence there ; 

*Tis unrepenting pleasm'e makes a god. 
Dost think thyself a god from other joys .'' 

A victim ratlier ! shortly sure to bleed. 

The wrong tmist mourn : can heav'ns appointments 
fail? 

Can man outwit Omnipotence ? strike out 

A self-wrought happiness unmeant by him 

"Who made us, and the Avorid Ave Avould enjoy ? 

Who forms an instrument, ordains from Av'hence 

Its dissonance, or uarmony, shall rise. 

Heav'n bid the soul this mortal frame inspire ; 

Bid virtue's ray diAJne inspire the soul, 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 20 

• With unprecarious flows of vital joy ; 
And, without breathing, man as well might liopc 
For life, as, without piety, for peace. 

** Is virtue, then, and piety the same ?"— . ; 
No : piety is more ; 'tis virtue's soui'ce ; ■. ' 

Mother of ev'iy worth, as that of joy. 'h>e 

JVTen of the world this doctrine ill digest; 
They smile at piety ; yet boast aloud 
Good will to men ; nor know they strive to pax't 
What nature }on\^ ] and thus confute themselves. 
With piety begins all good on earth ; 
'Tis the first-born of rationality. 
Conscience, her first law broken, wounded lies ; 
Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good ; 
A feign'd aftection bounds her utmost pow'r. 
Some we caa''t love, but for th' AL nighty's sake ; 
A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man ; 
Some sinister, intent taints all he does ; 
And, in his kindest actions, he's unkind. 

Oil piety, humanity is built ; 
And, on humanity, much happiness ; 
And yet still more on ])iet]^ itself. 
A soul in commerce witli her Gon, is heav'n ; 
Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life ; 
The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart. 
A Deity believ'd, is joy begun ; 
A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd; 
A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd. 
Each branch oi piety deligiit inspires : 
Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, 
O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides ; 
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy. 
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still ; 
Pray''r ardent opens heav'n, lets down a stream 
Of glory on the consecrated hour 
Of man, in audience with the Deity. 
Who worships \X\g^ great God, that instant joins 
The first in heav'n, and sets his foot on hell. 

LoRKxzo ! when wast thou at ciiurch before .- 
I'hou think'st the service long : but is it just ? 
Though just, unv.elcome : thou hadst r:ith»:T tread 



206 THE COMPLAINT. 

Unhallow'd ^ound ; the muse, to win thine ear. 

Must take an air less solemn. She complies. 
Good conscience ! at the sound the loorld retires ; 

Verse disaifects it, and LnuEjfzo smiles ; 

Yet has she her seraglio full of charms ; 

And such as age shall heighten, not impair. 

Art thou dejected ? is thy mind o'ercast ? 

Amid her fair ones, thou the fairest clioose. 

To chase thy gloom. — " Go, fix some weighty truth; 

*' Chain down some passioJi ; do soma geii' ro us good; 

Teach ignorance to see, or grief to smile ; 

Correct ihy friend: befriend thy greatest/oe .- 

Or, with wann heart and couiidence divine. 

Spring up, and lav strong hold on him who made 
thee." 

Thy gloom is scatter'd, sprightly spirits flOAv ; 

Though witlier'd is thy vine, and harp unstrung. 
Dost call the bowl, the \-iol, and the d.'Uice, 

Loud mirth, mad laughti^-r ? wi-etched comforters ! 

Physicians ! more than half of thy dis.-ase. 

Laughter, though never censur'd yet as .sin, 

(Pardon a tliought that only seems severe,) 

Is half immoral. Is it iutteh indulg'd ? 

By venting spleen, or dissipating thought. 

It shews a scorner, or it makes -a fool; 

And sins, as hurting others, or oui'selves. 

'Tis pride, or emptiness, appUes the straw, 

That tickles little minds to mirth eifuse ; 

Of grief approaching, the po.tcntous sign \ 

The house of iaiighter makes Sf house of woe. 

A man triitmphant is a monstrous sight ; 

A man dsjecied is a sight as mean. 
■'What cause for triumph, where such ills abound f 
\ Wlrat for dejection, where presides a pow'r. 

Who call'd us into being to be bless'd P 
e So gi'ieve, as conscious grief may rise to joy ; 
\ So joy, as conscious joy to grief may fall. 
I Most true, a wise man never will be sad ; ■- 
I But neither will sonoi'ous, biilibling mirth, 
, A shallow stream of happiness betray : 

Too happy to be sportive, he's serent;. 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 207 

Yet wouldst thou laugh ? (but at thy own expense) 
This counsel strange should I pi-esutne to give — • 
** Retire, and read thy Bible, to be gay." 
There truths abound of sov'reign aid to peace ; 
Ah ! do not prize them less, because iiispu-'d. 
As thou, and thine, are apt and proud to do. 
If not inspird, that prgnant page had stooil. 
Time's treasure, and the uonder of the wise! 
Thou think' St, perhaps, thy so // alone at stake 
Alas I'— Should men mih^take thee for ufool; 
What man of taste for ;^enuis, wisdom , truth, 
Though tender of thy fame, couhl interpose ? 
Believe me, sense, h^re, acts a double part, 
And the true critic is a christicm too. 
But these, thou think'st, arc; gloomy paths to joy. — 
Tnie joy in sunshine ne'er was found at first ; 
They, fix'st, themselves odeiid, who greatly please ; 
And travel only gives us sound repose. 
Heav'n sells all pleasure ; eflbrt is the price ; 
The joys of conquest, are the joys of man ; 
And g'onj the victorious laurel spreads 
O'er pleasure'' s pure, perpetual, ])lacid stream. 

There is a time, when toil must be preferr'd. 
Or joy, by mis-tim'd fondness, is undone. 
A. mati o( pleasure is a man oi' pains. 
Thou wilt not take the trouble to be blest. 
False joys, indeed, are born for want of thought ; 
Froiu thought's full bent, and energy, the true : 
And that demands a mind in equal poize, 
Remote from gloomy g^'icf, ami glaring joy. 
Much joy not only speaks small happiness. 
But happiness that shortly must expire. 
Can joy, unhottom'd in reflection, stand ? 
And, in a tempest, can reflection live ? 
Can joy, like thine, secure itself an hour ? 
Can joy, like thine, meet accident unshock'd ? 
Or ope the door to honest poverty ? • 
Or talk witli threat'ning death, and not turn pale ? 
in such a world, and such a nature, tliese 
Are needful fundamentals of delight : 
Thete fuadameutals give delight indeed/ 



208 THE COMPLAINT. 

Delight, pure, (lelicjite, and durable ; 

Delight, unshaken, masculine, divine ; 

A constant, and a sound, but serious joy. 
Is joy the daughter of severity ? 

It is : — ^Yet far my doctrine from severe. 

" Rejoice for ever :" It becomes a man ; 

Exalts, and sets him nearer to the gods. 

" Rejoice for ever," J\ature cries, " Rejoice ;" 

And drinks to man, in her nectareous cup, 

Mix'd up of delicates for ev'iy sense ; 

To the great Founder of the l)Ounteous feast. 

Drinks glory, gratitude, eternal praise ; 

And he that will not pledge Iter, is a churl. 

Ill, firmly to support, good, fully tiiste. 

Is the wliole science of felicity : 

Yet sparing' pledge : Her bow 1 is not the hest 

A[ankind can boast.^— " Av rational repast; 

" Exertion, vigilance, a mind in ai'ms, 

A militiiry discipline of thought, 

To foil temptation in the doubtful field ; 

And ever-waking ardour for the right i'^ 

'Tis these^ first give, theit guard, a cheerful heart 

Nought that is right, think little ; well aware, 

"^Vhat reason bids, God bids ; by his command 

1 low aggi'andiz'd, the smallest thing ^\ e do ! 

'I'hus, nothing is insipid to the wise ; 

To thee, insipid all, but what is mad; 

Joys season'd high, and tasting sti-ong of guilt. 

" Jrlad! (thou reply'st, with indignation fir'd ;) 
Of ancient sages provul to tread the steps, 
] follow ^N'dture." — Follow JWUure still. 
But look it be thine own : Is conscience, then. 
No part of nature ? Is she not supreme ? 
Thou re^cide ; O raise her from the dead ! 
'I'hen, follow nature ; and resemble God. 

When, spite of conscience, pleasure is pursu'd, 
Alan's nature is unnaturally pleas'd : 
And what's unnatural, is painful too 
At intervals, and must disgust ev^n tliee ! 
'V\iG.fact thou know'st; but not, perhaps, the cause. 
Virtue's foundations with Uie rvorkVs v. eve laid ; 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 209 

Heav'n mix'd her with our make, and twisted close 
Her sacred int'rests with the strings of life. 
Who breaks her awful mandate, shocks himself. 
His better self: And is it greater pain. 
Our soul should murmur, or our dust repine ? 
And one, in their eternal war, must bleed. 

If one must suffer, which should least be spar'd ? 
The pains of mind surpass the pains of sense. 
Ask, then, the gout, what torment is in guilt. 
The joys of sense to mental joys are mean': 
Sense on the present only feeds ; the soul 
On past, and future, forages for joy. 
'Tis her's, by retrospect, through time to range ; 
And forward time's great sequel to survey. 
Could human courts take vengeance on the mind, 
Axes might rust, and racks, and gibbets, fall : 
Guard, then, thy trund, and leave the rest to fate. 

LoREJfZO ! wilt thou never be a man ? 
Tlie man is dead, who for the body lives, 
Lur'd, by the beating of his pulse, to list < 

With ev'ry lust, that wars against liis peace ; 
And sets him quite at variance with himself. 
Thyself, first know ; then love : A se//" there is 
Of virtue fond, that kindles at her charms, 
A self there is, as fond of ev'ry vice. 
While ev'ry virtue wounds it to the heart ; 
H'lmiUty degrades it, justice robs, 
Bless'd bounty beggars it, fair truth betrays, 
And godlike magnanimity destroys. 
This self, when rival to the former, scorn ; 
When not in competition, kindly treat. 
Defend it ; feed it : — But when vu'tue bids, 
Toss it, or to the fowls, or to the flames. 
And why ? 'Tis love of pleasure bids thee bleed , 
Comply, or own self-love extinct or blind. 

For what is vice ? Self-love in a mistake : 
A poor blind merchant buying joys too dear. 
And virtue, what ? 'Tis self-love in her wits. 
Quite skilful in the market of delight. 
Self-love's good sense is love of that di'ead pow'r. 
From whom she spx'ings, and all she can enjoy. 



210 THE COMPLAIXT. 

Other self-love is but disguisM self-hate ; i 

More mortal' than the malice of our foes; ;] 

A self-hate, iioxo, scarce felt ; then, felt full-sore. 
When being, curst ; extinction, loud i.nplor'd ; 
And ev'ry thing preferr'd to what we are. 

Yet tlds self-love, Lore.vzo makes his choice \ 
And, in this choice tnumphaut, boasts of joy. 
How is his want of happiness betray'd, 
By disaffection to the present hour ! 
Imagination wanders far a-field : 
The future pleases : Why P the present pains.*— 

** But that's a secret."' — ^Yes, which ail men 
know ; 
And know from thee, discover'd unawares. 
Thy ceaseless agitation, restless rolls 
From cheat to cheat, impatient of a pause ; 
What is it P — 'Tis the cradle of the soul. 
From instinct sent, to rock her in disease. 
Which her physician, reason, will not cui'e. 
A poor expedient ! yet thy best ; and while 
It mitigates thy pain, it oivns it too. 

Such are Louknzo's wretched remedies! 
The weak have remedies ; the wise have joys. 
Superior wisdom is superior bliss. 
And what sure mark distinguishes the wise ? 
Consistent wisdom ever wills the same ; 
Thy fickle wish is ever on the wing. 
Sick of herself Is folly's character ; 
As wisdom's is, a modest se//'-applause. 
A change of evils is thy good supreme ; 
Nor, but in motion, canst thou find thy rest. 
*» fan's greatest strength is shewn in standing still. 
The fii'st sure symptoms of a mind in health, 
Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home. 
False pleasure from abroad her joys impoils ; 
Rich from within, and self-sustain'd, the true. 
The true is fix'd, and solid as a rock ; 
Slipp'ry the false, and tossing, as the wave. 
This, a wild w^anderer on earth, Hke Cain ; 
That, like the fabled, self-enamour'd boy," 

* Narcissus^ 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 211 

Home-contemplation her supreme delight ; 
She (Ireavls an interruption from without, 
Smit with her own condition ; and the more 
Intense she gazes, still it charms the more. 

N"o man is happy, till he thinks, on earth 
There breathes not a more happy than liimself ; 
Then envif dies, and love o'ertiows oti all ; 
And love o'erflowing makes an angel here. 
Such angels ail, entitled to repose 
On him who governs fate ; though tempest frowns, 
Though nature shakes, how soft to lean on Heav'n ; 
To lean on Him, on whom Archangels lean ! 
With inward eyes, and silent as the grave. 
They stand collecting ev'iy beam of thought, 
'Till their hearts kindle with divine delight ; 
For all their thoughts, like angels, seen of old 
In Israel's dreain, come from, and go to, Heav'n ;| 
Hence, are theif studious of sequester' d scenes ; 
While noise, and dissipation, comfort thee. 

Were all men happy, revL-llings would cease. 
That opiate for inquietude within. 
LoaEN'zo ! never man was truly bless'd. 
But it compos'd, and gave him such a cast. 
As folly migiit mistake for want of joy ; 
A cast, unlike the triumph of the proud ; 
A modest asptct, and a siuile at heart. 
O for a joy from thy PiiiLANDEii's spring! 
A spring perei'uial, rising in the breast. 
And permanent, as pure ! no turbid stream 
Of rapt'rous exultation swelling high ; 
Which, like land-floods, impetuous pour a wiiile, 
Then sink at once, and leave us in ttic mire. 
What does the man, who transient joy prifers '' 
What, but prefer the bubble, to the stream ? 

Vain are all sudden sallies of delight : 
Convulsions of a weak distemper'd joy. 
Joy's a fix'd state : a tenure, not a start. 
Bliss there is none, but iniprecarioiis bliss : 
That is a gem: sell all, and purchase that. 
Why go a begging to contingencies, 

t Genesis xxviii, 12, 



£12 THE COMPLAINT. 

Not gain'd Avith ease, nor safely lov'd, if gaia'd ? ', i 

At go.yA fortuitouSy draw back, and pause ; 

Suspect it ; what thou canst ensure, enjoy ; 

And nought but what thou giv'st thyself, is sure. 

JReason ijerpetuates joy that reason gives. 

And makes it as immortal as herself : 

To mortals, nought immortal, but their worth. 

Worth, conscious worth ! should absolutely reign ,\ 
And othei' joys ask leave for their approach ; || 

Nor, unexamin'd, ever leave obtain. i' 

Thou art all anarchy ; a mob of joys 
Wage Avar, and perish in intestine broils ; 
Not the least promise of internal peace ! 
No bosom-conifort ! or unborrow'd bliss ! 
Thy tlioughts are vagabonds : All outward bound. 
Mid sands, and rocks, and storms, to cruise for plea«( 

sure ; ' 

If gain'd, dear-bought ; and better miss'd than gain'd 
Much pain must expiate, what much pain procured 
Fancy, and setise, from an infected shore. 
Thy cargo bring ; and pestilence the prize. 
Then, such thy thirst (insatiable thirst ! 
By fond indulgence but inflam'd the niore!) 
Fancy still cruises, when poor sense is tir'd. 

Iniaginatioa is the Paphian shop. 
Where feeble happiness, like Vulca>', lame. 
Bids foul ideas, in their dark recess. 
And hot as hell (which kindled t!ie black fires) 
Witii Avanton art, those fatal arrows form. 
Which mui'der all thy time, health, wealth and 

fame. 
Wouldst thou receive them, other thoughts there 

are. 
On angel-wing, descending from aboA'e, 
Which these, Avith art divine, Avould counterwork. 
And form celestial armour for thy peace. 

In this is seen imagination's ^/?7^/ 
B It who cai coant her follies ? She betrays thee, 
To tliink in grandeur there is something gi*eat. 
For works of curious art, and ancient fame> 
Thy genius hungers, elegantly pain'd ; 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 213 

And foreign climes must cater for thy taste. 
Hence, Avhat disaster !■ — ^Tho' the price was paid. 
That persecuting priest, the Turk of Rome^ ► 
Whose foot (ye gods !) tho' cloven, must be kiss'd^ 
Detain'd thy dinner on the Latian shore ; 
(Such is the fate of honest protestants !) 
A.nd poor magnificence is star\''d to death. 
Hence just I'esentment, indignation, ire ! — 
Be paciiy'd : if ontivard things are great, 
Tis magnanimity gi'eat things to scorn ; 
Pompous expenses, and parades august, 
And courts ; that insakibrious soil to peace. 
Frue happiness ne'er enter'd at an eye ; 
Frue happiness resides in things unseen. 
No smiles oi fortune ever bless'd the bad. 
Nor can her fi'owns rob innocence of jo} s ; 
That jewel wanting, triple crowns are poor : 
5o tell his holvhess* and be reveng'd. 

Pleasure, we both agree, is man's chief good ; 
3ur only contest, what deserves the name. 
Give pleasure's name to nought, but w hat has pass'd 
rh' authentic seal of reason (which like Yorkk, 
Demurs on what it passes) and defies 
rhe tooth of time ; when past, a pleasure still ; 
Dearer on trial, lovelier for its age, 
^nd doubly to be priz'd, as it promotes 
3u.r future, while it forms our present joy. 
Some joys the future overcast ; and some 
Fhrow all tlieir beams that v. a)', and gild the tomb 
Some joys endear eternity ; some give 
\.bhorr'd annihilation dreadful chai'ms. 
\re rival joys contending for thy clioice ? 
Consult thy -cvhole existence, and be safe ; 
rhat Oracle will put all doubt to flight. 
Short is the lesson, though my lecture long. 
Be good — and let Heav'n answer for the rest. 

Yet, with a sigh o'er all mankind, I grant 
n this our day of proof, our land of hope, 
Fhe good man has his clouds that intervene : 
Clouds that obscure his sublunary day, 

' The Pope. 



214 THE COMPLAINT. 

But never conquer : Ev'n the best must own. 

Patience, and resignation^ are the pillars 

Of human peace on earth. The pillars, these : i 

Rut those of Seth not more remote from thee, j 

'Till this heroic lesson thou liast learn 'd ; 

To frowMi At pleasure, and to s.iiile in pain. 

Fir'd lit the prospect of unclouded bliss, 

Ileav'n in reversion, like tlie Sun, as yet 

Beneath th' horizon, cheers us in this world ; 

It sheds, Oil souls susceptible of light. 

The glorious dawn of our eternal day. 

" This (says Lorenzo) is a fair harangue : 

Bat can harangues blow back strong nature's stream r^ 

Or stem the tide heav'n pushes through our veins, i 

Wliich sweeps away man's impotent resolves, : 

And lays his labour level with the world?" 

Themselves men make their comment on man- 
kind ; W 
And think nought is, but what they find at Jioyne : 
Tiras, sveakness to chimera turns tlie truth. 
Notliing romantic has the muse prescrib'd. 
* Above, LoREKZO saw the man of earth. 
The mortal man ; and wretched was the sight. 
To balance that, to comfort, and exalt. 
Now see the jnan immortal : Him, I mean. 
Who lives as such : whose heart full bent on Heav'n, 
Leans all that way, his bias to the stai's. 
The world's dark shades, in contrast set, shall raise 
His lustre more ; though bright without a foil : 
Observe his awful Portrait, and admii-e ; 
Nor stop at wonder ; imitate, and live. 

Soiiie angel guide my pencil, while I draw. 
What notliing less than angel can exceed, 
A man on earth devoted to the skies ; 
Like ships at sea, while in, above the world. 

With aspect mild, and elevated eye. 
Behold him seated on a mount serene. 
Above the fogs of sense, and passion'' s storm ; 
All the black cares, and tumults, of this life, 

• In a former Kl^c^'it, 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 215 

(Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet) 

Excite his pity^ not impair his p^ace. 

Jlarth's genuine sons, the scepter'd, and the slav<j, 

A mingled mob ! a wand'ring herd ! he sees, 

Bewil(ier'd in the vale ; in all unlike ! 

His full reverse in all ! What higher praise ? 

What stro»^er demonstration of the right ? 

The present all their care ; the future, his. 
When public welfare calls, or jirivate Avant, 
They give to fame ; his bounty he conceals. 
Their virtues var:ush nature ; /«'«, exalt. 
Mankind's esteem they court, ; and, he, hiS ov/n. 
Theirs, the wild chase o( false felicities ; 
His, the compos'd possession of the true-. - 
Alike throughout is his consistent peace. 
All of one colour, and an even thread ; 
While party -coiour'd shreds of happiness. 
With hideoui'laps between, patch up for tlie7n 
A madman's robe; each puff of ybr^;me blows 
Tiie tattei'« by, and shews their nakedness. 

/le sees with other eyes than theirs : Where they 
Beltold a S!i/i, he spies a Deity ; 
What makvs them ouly smile, makes him adore. 
Where ihey see mountains, he but atoms sees ; 
An Empire, in his balance, weighs a grain. 
They things terrestrial worship, as divine ; 
His iiopes immortal blow them by, as dust. 
That dims his sight, and shortens his survt-y, 
Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound. 
Titles and honours (if they pix)ve his fate) 
He lays aside to find his .ligaity; 
No dignity !hey find in aught besides. 
Tliey triumpli in externals (which conceal 
Man's real gioiy) proud of an eclipse. 
Himself too much he prizes to be proud. 
Anil nothing thinks so great in man, as man. 
Too d(:-ar he Imlds his i"nt'rest, to neglect 
Another's welfare, or his right invade ; 
Thi\r iiit'rest, like a lion, lives on prey. 
Tlipy kindle at the shadow of a wrong ; 
\Yi'oi>g he sustains with temper, looks on Heav'n, 



216 THE COMPLAINT. 

Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe ; 

Nought, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his 

peace. 
A cover'd heart their character defends ; 
A cover'd heart denies Mm half his praise. 
With nakedness his innocence agi-ees ; 
While tlieir broad foliage testifies their fall. 
Their no-joys end, where his full feast begins : 
His joys create, their' s murder, future bliss. 
To triumph in existence, his alone ; 
And his alone, triumphantly to think 
His true existence is not yet begun. 
His glorious course was, yesterday, complete ; 
Death, then, Avas M^elcome ; yet life still is sweet. 

But nothing charms Louenzo, like the firm. 
Undaunted breast. — -And whose is that high praise ? 
They yield to pleasure, though they danger brave, 
And shew no foi-titude, but in the field'; 
If there they shew it, 'tis for glory shewn ; 
Nor will that coi'dial ahvays man t/ieir hearts. 
A cordial his sastai:is, that cannot fail ; 
By pleasure unsubdu'd, unbroke by pain. 
He shares in that Omnipotence he trusts. 
All-bearing, all -attempting, till he falls ; 
And when he falls, writes VICI * on his shield. 
From magnanimity, all Jear above ; 
From nobler recompense above applause ; 
Which owes to man's short out-look all its charms. 

Backward to credit what he never ^e?^, 
Lorenzo cries — " Where shines this miracle ? 
From what root rises this immortal man .?" 
A I'oot that grows not in Lore:vzo's ground ; 
The root dissect, nor wonder at the Jlow'r. 
He follows nature (not like thee !) and shews us 
An uninverted system of a man. 
His appetite wears reason's golden chain. 
And finds, in due restraint, its luxury. 
His passion, like an eagle well-reclaim'd. 
Is taught to fly at nought but injinite. 

• I have conquered. 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 217 

Patient his hope^ unanxious is his care. 
His caution fearless, and his grief (if grief 
The gods ordain) a stranger to despair. 
And why ? — Because affection, more than raeet. 
His Avisdom leaves not disengag'd from heav'n. 
Those secondary goods that smile on earth. 
He, lovii^, in proportion, loves in peace: 
They most the world enjoy, who least admire. 
His nndcrstanditig 'scapes the common cloud 
Of fumes arising from a boiling breast. 
His head is clear, because his hArt is cool. 
By worldly competitions uninflam'd. 
The mod'rate movements of his soul admit 
Distinct ideas, and matur'd debate. 
An eye impartial, and an even scale ; 
Whence judgment sound, and unrepenting choice. 
Thus, in a double sense, the good are wise ; 
On its own dunghill, wiser than the world. 
What then the%vorid .•' It must be doubly weak ; 
Strange truth ! as soon would they believe theii" 
creed. 
Yet thus it is ; nor otherwise can be ; 
So far from aught I'omantic v/hat I sing. 
Bliss has no being, virtue has no strength, 
But from the prospect of immortal life. 
Who think eartVi all, or (what weighs just the same) 
Wlio care no farcher, must prize what it yields ; 
Fond of its fancies ; proud of its parades. 
Who thinks earth nothing ,- can't its charms admire ^ 
He can't a foe, though most malignant, hate. 
Because that hate would prove his greater foe. 
'Tis hard for thetn (yet who so loudly boast 
Good-will to men ?) to love their deai'est friend ; 
For may not he invade their good supreme. 
Where the least jealousy turns love to gall ? 
All shines to them, that for a season shines. 
Each act, each thought, ?ie questions *' WL'\t its 

weight. 
Its colour what, a thousand ages hence ?"•— 
And what it tliere appears, he deems it fioTV. 
Hence, pure are the recesses of his soul, 
K 



218 THE COMPLAINT. 

The god-like man has nothing to conceal. 

His virtue, constitutionally deep, 

Has habit's firmness, and affectioii's flame ? 

Angels, ally'd, descend to feed the fire. 

And deaths which others slays, make him a god. 

And now, Lorenzo ! Bigot of this a\ orld ! 
Wont to disdain poor bigots caught by heav'n ! 
Stand by thy scorn^ and be reduc'd to nought : 
For what art thou ? — 'I'hou boaster ! While thy glare., 
Thy gaudy grandeur, and mere worldly worth. 
Like a broad mist, at a distance, strikes us most; 
And, like a mist, is nothing when at hand : 
His merit, like a mountain, on approach. 
Swells more, and rises nearer to the skies. 
By promise, noiv, and, by possession, soom, 
(Too soon, too much, it cannot be) his own. 

From this thy just annihilation rise, 
Lorenzo ! rise to something, by reply. 
The world, thy client, listens, and expects ; 
And longs to ci-ow n thee w ith immortal praise. 
Canst thou be silent ? No ; for luit is thine ; 
And wit talks most, when least she has to say. 
And reason interrupts not her career. 
She'll say — That mists above the mountains rise ; 
And, with a thousand pleasantries, amuse : 
She'il sparkle, puzzle, flutter, raise a dust. 
And fly conviction, in the dust she rais'd. 

Wit, how delicious to man's dainty taste ! 
'Tis in-ecious, as the vehicle of Setise ; 
But, as its s'abstltute, a dire disease. 
Pernicious talent ! Flatter'd by the world. 
By the blind world, which thinks the talent rare. 
Wisdom is rare, Lore>"ZO ! Wit abounds ; 
JPas&ion can give it ; sometimes tvijie inspires 
The lucky flash ; and 7nadness rarely fails. 
Whatever cause the spirit strongly stirs. 
Confers the bays, and rivals thy renown. 
For thy renown, 'tw ere well, m as this the worst ; 
Chance often hits it, and, to piqvie thee more. 
See dullness b^und'ring on vivacities. 
Shakes her sage head at the calamity. 
Which has expos'd, and let her down to thee. 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 219 

But 7ulsdo77i, awful wisdom ! wliich inspects, 

Discerns, compares, weiglis, separates, infers. 

Seizes the riglit, and holds it to the last ; 

How rare ! In senates, synods, souglit in vain ; 

Or, if thei^e found, 'tis sacred to the /evy ,• 

While a lewd prostitute to multitudes, 

Frequeat, as fatal, wi( : In civil life, 

Wit, makes an enterpriser; sense, a man. 

Wit, hates authority ; commotion loves, 

And thinks herself the lightning of the storm. 

In States, 'tis dang'rous ; in religion, death : 

Shall -wit turn christian, when the dull believe ? 

Sense is our helmet, tdt is but the plume ; 

The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. 

Sense is the di'mond, Aveighty, solid, sound ; 

When cut by ivit, it casts a brighter beam ; 

Yet, it)it apart, it is a di'mond still. 

Wit, widow 'd oi good sense, is worse tlian nought; 

It hoists more sails to run against a rock. 

Thus, a /jaf/'-CHESTEiiFiF.LR is quite a fool : 

Wliom dtdl fools scorn, and bless their want of wit. 

How ruinous the rock 1 warn thee shun, 
Wliere Sirens sit, to sing thee to thy fate ! 
Ajoif, in which our rea^ion bears no part, 
Is but a sorrow tickliiig, ere it stings. 
Let not the cooings of the MOi'ld allure thee ; 
Wliich of her lovers ever found her true ? 
Happy ! of this bad world who little know ! 
And yet, we much must know her to l)e safe. 
To kno~M the world, not love Iter, is thy point ; 
She gives but little, nor that little, long. 
There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse ; 
A dance of spirits, a mere froth of joy. 
Oar thoughtless agiiation''s idle child, 
That mantles high, that sparkles, and expires, 
Leaving the soul more vapid than before. 
An animal ovation ! such as holds 
No commerce with our reason, but subsists 
On juices, thro' the well ton'd tubes, Avell strain'd 
A nice machine ! scarce ever tun'd aright ; 
And when it jars — ^thy sirens sing no more ; 



220 THE COMPLAINT. 

Thy dance is done ; the demi-god, is thrown 

(Slxort apotheosis !) beneath the maiiy 

In coward gloom immers'd, or fell despair. 

Art thou yet didl enoiigh despair to dread. 
And startle at destruction P If thou art, 
Accept a buckler, take it to the field ; 
(A field of battle is this mortal life !) 
When danger tlireaten-s, lay it on thy heart ; 
A single sentence proof against the ivorhl. 
*' Sold, bodij, fortune ! Ev'ry good pertains 
To one of these ; but prize not all alike ; 
The goods of fortune to thy body's health. 
Body to soul, and soul submit to God." 
Wouldst thou build lasting liappiness .'' Do this ; 
Th' inverted pyramid can never stand. 

Is this ti'uth doubtful ? It outshines the sun ; 
Nay, the Sun shines not, but to shew us this. 
The single lesson of mankind on earth. 
And yet — ^Yet, what ? No news ! Mankind is mad ; 
Such mighty numbers list against the right, 
(And what can't numbers when bewitch'd, atchieve ?) 
They talk themselves to something like belief. 
That all earth's joys are tlieirs : As Athens' fool 
Grinn'd from the port, on ev'iy sail his own. 
They grin ; but wherefore ? And how long the 
laugh ? 
Half ignorance, their mirth ; and Jialf, a lie ; 
To cheat the world, and cheat themselves, they 

smile. 
Hard either task ! The most abandon'd own. 
That others, if abandon'd, are undone : 
Then, for themselves, the moment reason wakes, 
(And Pro\idence denies it long repose) 
O how laborious is their gaiety ! 
They scarce can swallow their ebullient spleen. 
Scarce muster patience to support the farce. 
And pump sad laughter, 'till the curtain falls. 
Scarce, did I say ? Some cannot sit it out ; 
Oft their OAvn daring hands, the curtain draw. 
And shew us -ivhat their joy, by their despair. 
The clotted hair ! gor'd breast ! blaspheming eye ! 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 221 

Its impious fury still alive in death ! — 

Shut, shut the shocking scene. — But heav'n denies 

A cover to such guilt ; and so should man. 

Look round, Lorexzo ! see the reeking blade, 

Th' invenoni'd phial, and the fatal ball ; 

The strangling cord, and suffocating stream ; 

The loathsome rottenness, and foul decays 

From raging riot, (slower suicides !) 

And pride in these, more execrable still !— 

How horrid all to thought ! — But hori*ors, these, 

Tl^t vouch the truth ; and aid my feeble song. 

Prom wee, sense, fancy, no man can be blest ; 
Bliss is too great, to lodge witliin an hour : 
When an immortal being aims at bliss. 
Duration is essential to the name. 
O for a joy from reason / Joy from that, 
Which makes man, man : and, exercis'd aright. 
Will make him more : A bounteous joy ' that gives. 
And promises ; that weaves, with art divine. 
The richest prospect into present peace : 
A joy ambitions ! Joy in co amon held 
With thrones ethereal, and their greater far : 
A joy, high-privileg'd from chance, time, death ! 
A joy, which death shall double ! Judgment crown ! 
Ci-own'd higher, and still higher, at each stage. 
Through bless'd eternity's long day : yet still, 
Not more remote from sorrow, than from Him, 
Whose lavish hand, whose love, stupendous, pours 
So much of Deity on guilty dust. 
There, O my LrciA ! may I meet thee there. 
Where not thy presence can improve my bliss ! 

Affects not this the sages of the world ? 
Can nought affect them, but wh^X. fools them too ? 
Eternity, depending on an hour. 
Makes serious thought man's Avisdora, joy, and 

praise. 
Nor need you blush (though sometimes your designs 
May shun the light) at your designs on heav'n : 
Sole point ! where over-bashful is your blame. 
Are you not wise ? — You know you are : yet hear 
One tr-uth, amid your num'roas schemes, mislaid. 



222 THE COMPLAINT. 

Or ovcrlookM, or thrown aside, if seen ; 
*' Our schemes to plan by this worhl, or the 7iext, 
Is the sole diff 'rence between wise, and fool." 
All ivorthi) nien will weigh 3'ou in this scale ; 
"WHiat wonder, then, if they pronounce you light? 
Is their esteem alone not worth your care ? 
Accept my simple scheme of Common Sense • 
Thus save your fame, and make txoo worlds your 

own. 
The w orld replies not ; — ^but the world persists : 
And puts the ccni-ie off to the longest day. 
Planning evasions for the day of doom. 
So far, at that re-hearings from redress. 
They then tui*n witnesses against themselves. 
Hear that, Lorenzo ! Nor be vise to-morrow. 
Haste, haste ! A man, by nature, is in haste ; 
For who shall answer for another hour ? 
'Tis highly prudent, to make one sure friend ; 
And that thou canst not do, this side the skies. 
Ye sons of earth ! (nor ■wilUng to be more !) 
Since verse you Uaink from priestcraft somewhat 

free. 
Thus, in an age so gay, the muse plain truths 
(Truths, wliich, at church, you might have heard in 

prose) 
Kns ventur'd into light ; well pleas'd the verse 
Should be forgot, if you the truths retain ; 
And crown her with your welfare, not your praise. 
But praise she need not fear : I see my fate ; 
And headlong leap, like Curtius, down the gulpb. 
Since many an ample volitme, mighty tome^ 
!Must die ; and die tmwept : O thou minute. 
Devoted page ! go forth among thy foes ; 
Go, nobly proud of martyrdom for truth, 
And die a double death : Mankind, incens'd. 
Denies thee long to live : Nor shalt thou rest. 
When thou art dead ; in Stygian shades arraign'd 
By Lucifer, as traitor to his throne ; 
And bold blaspliemer of his friend, — The Worid ; 
The World, w hose legions cost him slender pay, 
And volwiteers, around Jiis banner swarm ! 



NIGHT EIGHTH. 223 

Prudent as Prussia, in her zeal for Gaul. 

*' Are all, then, fools ?" Lorenzo cries. — ^Yes all, 

But such as hold this doctrine (new to thee ;) 

** The mother of true wisdom is the xvill .•" 

The noblest iyiteUect, a fool without it. 

World'ioisdom much has done, and more may do. 

In arts and sciences, in wars and peace ; 

But ai't and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee^ 

And make thee twice a beggar at thy death. 

This is the most indulgence can afford ;— 

*' Thy -zvisdom all can do, but — make thee tvise." 

Nor think this censure is severe on thee ; - 

Satan, thy master, I dare call a duace. 



CONSOLATION. 



NIGHT NINTH. 

Containing, among other things, 

I. A Moral Survey of the Nocturnal Heavens. 

II. A Night Address to the Deity. 



To his Grace The Duke of Newcastle, one of his Majesty's 
Principal Secretaries of State. 



Fatis Contmria Fata rependeiis. Virg. 

As Avheii a traveller, a long day past 
la painful searcli of what he cannot find. 
At night's approach, content with the next cof, 
1 here ruminates, a while, his labour lost ; 
Then cheers his heart a\ ith what his fate aftbrds. 
And chants his sonnet to deceive the time, 
'Till the due season calls him to repose : 
Thus I, long travell'd in the ways of men. 
And dancing, with the rest, the giddy maze, 
^Vhere dtsappointment smiles at hope's career; 
Warn'd by the languor of life's ev'ning raj^. 
At length have hous'd me in an humble shed ; 
Where, future wand'ring banish'd from my thought 
And waiting, patient, the sweet hour of rest ; 



226 THE CONSOLATION. 

I chase the moments with a serious song. 

Song soothes our pains ; and age has pains to soothe. 

When age, cai-e, time, and friends embrac'd at 
heart. 
Torn from m.y bleeding breast, and deatKs dark 

shade. 
Which hovers o'er me, quench th' ethereal fire ; 
Canst thou, O JVight ! indulge one labour more ? 
One labour moi-e indulge ! Then sleep my strain ! 
*Till, hap'ly, wak'd by Raphael's golden lyre, 
Wl^re night, death, age, care, time, and sorrow 

cease ; 
To bear a part in everlasting lays ; 
Though far, far higher set, in aim, I trust, 
Symphonious to this humble prelude here. 

Has not the muse asserted pleasures pure, 
Like those above ; exploding other joys ? 
Weigh what was urg'd, Lorenzo ! Fairly weigh ; 
And tell me, hast thou cause to triumph still ? 
I think thou wilt forbear a boast so bold. 
But if, beneath the favour of mistake. 
Thy smile's sincere ; not more sincere can be 
Lorenzo's smile, than my compassion for him. 
The sick in hodi] call for aid ; the sick 
In mind are covetous of more disease ; 
And when atwo?'*?, they dream themselves quite 11:611. 
To hnoxv ourselves diseas'd, is half our cui'e. 
When JWiture^s blush by custom is v ip'd otf. 
And conscience, deaden'd by repeated strokes. 
Has into manners nat'raliz'd our crimes ,• 
The curse of curses is, our curse to love ; 
To triumph in the blackness of our g^dlt, 
f As Indians glory in the deepest jet ;) 
And throw aside our senses with our peace. 

But, grant no guilt, no shame, no least alloy 
Grant joy and glory, quite unsully'd, shone ; 
Yet, still, it ill deserves Lokejtzo's heart. 
'No joy, nog-lory, glitters in thy sight, 
But, through the thin partition of an hour, 
I see its sables wove by destiny ,• 
And that in sori'ow bury'd ; this in shame ; ., 



NIGHT NINTH. 227 

While howWng furies ring the doleful knell ; 

And conscience, now so soft thou scarce canst hear 

Her whisp-r, echoes theu' eternal peal. 

Wliere, the prime actors of the last yearns scene ; 
Their port so proud, their buskin, and their plume ? 
How many sleep, who kept the world awake 
With lustre, and witii noise ! Has death proclaim'd 
A truce, and hung his sated lance on liigh ? 
'Tis bi'audish'd still, nor shall the present year 
Be more tenacious of her human leaf. 
Or spread of feeble life a thinner fall. 

But needless monuments to wake the thought ; 
Life's gayest scenes speak man's mortality ; 
Though in a style more florid, full as plain. 
As \Iausoleums, pyramids, and tombs. 
What are our noblest ornaments, but deaths 
Turn'd flatti-rers of life, in paint or mai'ble. 
The well-stain'd canvas, or the featur'd stone ? 
Our fathers grace, or rather haunt the scene. 
Joy peo]>les her panlion from the dead. 

" Profiis^^d diversions ! cannot these escape ?" 
Far from it : These present us with a shroud ; 
And talk of death, like garlands o'er a gi-ave. 
As some bold plunderers, for bury'd -wealth. 
We ransack tombs for pastime ; from the dust 
Call up the sleeping hero ; bid him tread 
The scene for our amusement : How like gods 
We sit ; and, wrapt in immortality. 
Shed gen'rous tears on wretches born to die ; 
Their fate deploring, to forget our oxon ! 

\Vliat all the po.ups and triumphs of oui' lives. 
But legacies in blossom? Our lea i soil, 
Luxuriant grown, and ratik in vanities, 
From friends intei'r'd beneath ; a rich manure ! 
Like other worms, we banquet on the dead ; 
Like other worms, shall we crawl on, nor know 
Our present frailties, or approaching fate P 

Lo:l^■. vzo ! s.ich the gloi-ies of the Avorld ! 
What is the world itself? Thy world ? — A grave. 
Where is the dust that has not been alive ? 
The spade, the plough, distui'b our ancestors ; 



i228 THE CONSOLATION. 

From human mould we reap our daily bread. 
Tiie globe ai-ound earth's hollow surface shakes, 
And is the cieling of her sleeping sous. 
O'er devastation we blind revels keep ; 
Whole buried towns support the dancer's heel. 
The moist of human frame the sun exhales ; 
Winds scatter, through the mighty void, the dry ; 
Earth repossesses part of what slie gave, 
And the treed spirit mounts on wings of fire ; 
Each element partakes our scatter'd spoils ; 
As nature, wide, our ruins spread ; man's death 
Inhabits all things, but the thought of man. 

Nor man alone ; his bi'eathing bust expu-es. 
His tomb is mortal ; empires die : Where, now, 
The Roman ? Greek ? They stalk, an empty name ! 
Yet few regard them in this useful light \ 
Though half our learning is their ei)ita])li. 
When down thy vale, unlock'd by midnight thought. 
That loves to wander in thj^ sunless realms, 

death ! I stretch my view ; what visioTis rise ! 
What triumphs ! toils imperial ! Arts divine ! 
In vvither'd laurels glide befoi'e my sight ! 
What lengths of far-fam'd ages, billow'd high 
"With human agitation, roll along 

In unsubstantial images of air ! 

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, 

Whisp'ring faint echoes of t!te world's applause : 

AA ith penitential aspect, as they pass. 

All point at earth, and hiss at human pride. 

The wisdom of the wise, and pi'ancings of the great. 

But, O LoiiF.xzo ! far the rest above. 
Of ghastly nature, and enormous size. 
One form assaults my siglit, and chills my blood, 
And shakes my frame. Of one departed world 

1 see the mighty shadow ; oozy v^i'eath 

And dismal sea-weed crown her ?* o'er her ura 
Reclin'd, she weeps her desolated realms. 
And bloated sons ; and, weeping, prophesies 
Another^ 8 dissolution, soon, in flames. 

• Tlie Deluge referred to, Gen. vii, 22. 



NIGHT NINTH. 229 

Bat, like Cassandra, prophesies in vain ; 
In vain, to many ; not, I trust, to thee. 

For, know'st thou not, or art thou loth to know, 
The great decree, the counsel of the skies ? 
Deluge and conJlagra''.ion, dreadful pow'rs! 
Prime ministers of vengeance ! Chain'd in caves 
Distinct, *apart the giant furies roar ; 
Apart ; or, such their horiid rage for ruin, 
In mutual conflict would they rise, and wage 
Eter:ial war, 'till one was quite devour'd. 
But not for this, ordain'd their boumlless rage : 
When heav'n's inferior instruments of wrath, 
War, famine, pestilence, are found too weak 
To scourge a worhl for her enormous crimes, 
The'ie are let loos^', alternate : Down tl\ey rush. 
Swift and tempest'ous, from th' eternal throne, 
Witii irresistible commission arm'd. 
The world, in vain corrected, to destroy. 
And ease creation of the shocking scene. 

Seest thou, Lorenzo ! what depends on man ? 
The /h?e of Nature ; us for man, her birth. 
Earth's actoi^s change earth's transitory scenes. 
And make creation groan with human guilt. 
How must it gi'oan, in a new dehige whelra'd, 
But not of waters ! At the destin'<l hour. 
By the loud trumpet summon'd to the charge. 
See, all the formidable sons of fire. 
Eruptions, earthquakes, comets, lightnings, play 
Their various engines ; all at once disgorge 
Their blazing magazines ; and take, by storm. 
This poor teiTestrial citadel of man. 

Amazing period ! when each mountain-height 
Out-burns Vesuvius ; rocks etei-nal pour 
Their melted mass, as rivers once they pour'd ; 
Stars rush ; and final riii7i fiei'cely drives 
Her ploughshare o'er creation ! — While aloft. 
More than astonishment ! If more can be ! 
Far other fir. <na7nent than e'er was seen. 
Than e'er was thought by man ! Far other stars ! 
Stars animate, that govern these of fire ; 
Far other Sun .'—A Sun, O how unlike 



230 THE CONSOLATION. 

The babe at Bethle''m ! How unlike the man 

That gi'oan'd on Calvary ! Yet he it is ; 

The man of sorrows ! O how chang'd ! What pomp ! 

In grandeur terrible, all heav'n descends ! 

And Gods, ambitious, triumph in his train. 

As monarchs grand, on coronation-days. 

Omnipotence affects omnipotence. 

Wears all his glories, marshals all his pow'rs, 

Their state emblazes ! Deity exalts ! 

A swift ax'changel, with his golden wing, 

As blots and clouds, that darken and disgrace 

The scene divine, sweeps stars and suns aside. 

And now, all dross remov'd, heav'n's own pure day. 

Full on the confines of our ether, flames. 

While (dreadful contrast ') far, how far beneath ! 

Hell bursting, belches forth her blazing seas, 

And storms sulphureous ; her W)racious jaws 

Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey. 

LoRExzo ! welcome to this scene ; the last 
In nature's course ; the first in wisdom's thought. 
This strikes, if aught can strike thee ; this awakes 
The most supine ; this snatches man from death. 
Rouse, rouse Loren^zo, then, and follow me. 
Where truth, the most momentous man can hear, 
Loud calls the soul, and ardour wings her flight. 
I find my inspiration in my theme ; 
The grandeur of my subject is my muse. 

At mid}iight (when mankind is m rapt in peace^ 
And worldly yh/ic?/ feeds on golden dreams,) 
To give more (h-ead to man's mo^t dreadful hour, 
At midnight, 'tis presum'd, this ponij) will burst 
From tenfold darkness ; sudden as the spark 
From smitten steel ; from nitrous grain, the blaze. 
Man, starting from his couch, shall sleep no more ! 
The day is broke, which n^ver more shall close ! 
Above, around, beneath, amazement all ! 
TeiTor and glory join'd in tlieir extremes ! 
Our GOD in grandeur, and our ivorld on fire ! 
All nature struggling in the pangs of death ! 
Dost thou not hear her ? Dost thou not deplore 
Her strong convulsions, and her final groan ? 



NIGHT NINTH. 231 

Where are we now ? Ah me ! The ground is gone. 
On which we stood, Lorenzo ! While thou mciy^st. 
Provide more^rw support, or sink for ever ! 
Where ? How ? From whence ? Vain hope ! It is 

too late ! 
Wliere, w/iere, for shelter, shall the guilty fly, 
W^hen consternation turns the good man pale ? 

Great day ! for which all other days were made ; 
For which earth rose from chaos, tnan from earth : 
And an eternity, the date of Gods, 
Descended on poor earth-created man ! 
Great day of dread, decision, and despair ! 
At thought of thee, each subhmary wish 
Lets go its eager grasj), and drops the world ; 
And catches at each reed of hope in heav'n. 
At thought of thee ! — xind art thou absent then ^. 
Lorenzo ! No ; 'tis here ;— it is begun ; — 
Already is begun the grand assize. 
In thee, in all : Deputed conscience scales 
The dread tribunal, and forestalls our doom ; 
Forestalls ! and, by forestalling, proves it sure. 
Why on himself should man rweVi judgment pass ? 
Is idle J^ature laugliing at her sons ? 
Who conscience sent, her sentence will support. 
And God above assert that God in man. 

Thrice happy they ! that enter now the court 
Heav'n opens in then* bosoms : Rut, how rare ! 
Ah me ! That magnanimity, how rare ! 
What hero, like the man who stands himself; 
Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ; 
Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings, 
Resolv'd to silence future murmurs there ! 
The coward flies ; and, flying, is undone. 
TArt thou a coward P No :) The coward flies ; 
'rhinks, but thinks slightly ; asks, but fears to know : 
Asks, " What is truth P" witii Pii.ate* ; and re- 
tires ; 
Dissolves tlie court, and mingles with the throng } 
Asylum sa'.l ! from reason, hope, and heav'n ! 

• John yxm, 38. 



232 THE CONSOLATION. 

Siiall all, but man, look out with ardent eye. 
For that p:reat day, wliich wjis ordaiu'd for man ? 
O day of consummation ! Mark supreme 
Qf men are wise) of human thought ! nor least. 
Or in the sight of angels, or their KING ! 
AngelSf whose radiant circles, height o'er height. 
Order o'er order, rising, blaze o'er blaze. 
As in a theatre, suirouTjd this scene. 
Intent on man, and anxious for his fate. 
.Angels look out for thee ; for thee, their Loud, 
To vindicate his glory ; and for thee. 
Creation universal calls aloud. 
To dis-involve the moral world, and give 
To J\'atnre's renovation brighter charms. 

Shall man alone, w hose fate, a\ hose Jinal fate. 
Hangs on that hour, exclude it from his tliought i* 
1 think of nothing else ; I see ! I feel it ! 
All JWUiire, like an earthquake, trembling round ! 
All Deities, like summer's swarms, on wing ! 
AH basking in the full meridian blaze ; 
1 see the Jujjse enthron'd ! 'I'he flaming guard ! 
The volume open'd ! Open'd ev'ry heart ! 
A sun-beam pointing out each secret thought ! 
No patron ! Intercessor none ! Now past 
'I'he sweet, the clement, mediatorial hour ! 
For guilt no plea ! To pain, no pause ! no bound ! 
Inexorable all ! and all, extreme ! 

Nor man alone ; the foe of God and man. 
From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain. 
And rears his brazen front, with thunder scarr'd ; 
Receives his sentence, and begins his hell. 
All vengeance past, notv, seems abundant grace / 
lake meteors in a stornny sky, how roll 
His baleful eyes ! He curses whom he dreads ; 
And deems it the first moment of his fall. 

'Tis present to my thought ! And yet v.here is it .<' 
Angels can't tell me ; Angels cannot g7iess 
Tha period ,• from created httings lock'd 
In darkness. But the process, and the place. 
Are less obscure ; for these may man enquire. 
Say, thca gi-eat close of human hopes and fears ! 



NIGHT NINTH. 233 

Great key of hearts ! Gi'eat finisher of fates ! 
Great end ! and great beginning ! Say, Where art 

thou ? 
Art thou in time, or in eternity ? 
Nor in etermty, nor time, I find thee. 
These, as two monarchs, on their borders meet, 
(Monarchs of all elaps'd, or unarriv'd !) 
As in debate, how best their pow'rs ally'd. 
May swell the grandeur, or discharge the wrath, 
Of Him, whom both their monarchies obey. 

Time, this vast fabric for him built (and doom'd 
With him to fall) noiv bursting o'er his head ; 
His lamp, the sun, extinguish'd ; from beneath 
The frown of hideous darkness, calls his sons 
From their long slumber ! from earth's heaving womb. 
To second birth ; contemporary throng ! 
Rous'd at one call, upstarting from one bed, 
Prest in one croud, appall 'd with one amaze. 
He turns them o'er, Eternity ! to thee. 
Then (as a King depos'd disdains to live) 
He falls on his own scythe ; nor falls alone ; 
His greatest foe falls with him ; time, and he 
Who murdei-'d all time's offspring, death, expire. 

TIME was ! etermtt now reigns alone ! 
Awful Eternity ! ofi'ended Queen ! 
And her resentment to mankind, how just ! 
With kind intent, soliciting access. 
How often has she knock'd at human hearts ! 
Rich to repay their hospitality. 
How often call'd ! and with the voice of GoD ! 
Yet bore repulse, excluded as a cheat ! 
A, dream ! while foulest foes found welcome there ! 
A dream, a cheat, noi», all things, but her smile. 

For, lo ! her twice ten thousand gates thrown wide. 
As thrice fi-om Indus to the frozen pole. 
With banners, streaming as the Comet's blaze. 
And clarions, louder than the deep in stoi-ms. 
Sonorous as immortal breatli can blow. 
Pour forth their myriads, potentates, and pow'i'S, 
Of light, of darkness; in a middle field, 
Wide as Creation ! populous as wide ! 



234 THE CONSOLATION. 

A neutral region ! there to mark th' event 
Of that great Drama, -whose preceding scenes 
Detain' (1 them close spectators, through a length 
Of ages, I'ip'ning to this grand result ; 
Ages, as yet unnumber'd, but by God ; 
Who now, pronouncing sentence, vindicates 
The riglits of virtue, and his own renown. 

ETERNITY, the vai-ious sentence past, 
Assigns the sevei*'d throng distinct abodes. 
Sulphureous, or ambx'osial : What ensues ? 
The deed predominant ! the deed of deeds ! 
^Vluch makes a hell of hell, a heav'n of heav'a. 
The g-oddessy with determin'd aspect, turns 
Her adamantine key's enormous size 
Through destiny's inextricable waixls. 
Deep-driving ev'iy bolt, on both their fates. 
Then, fi'om the crystal battlements of heav!!«i» 
Down, down, she hurls it through the dark profound. 
Ten thousand thousand fathom ; there to rust. 
And ne'er unlock her resolution more. 
The deep resounds, and hell, through all her glooms ^ 
Returns, in s^roanSy the melancholy roar. 

O how unlike the chorus of the skies ! 
O how unlike tliose shouts of joy, that shake 
The whole ethereal ! how the concave rings ! 
Nor strange ! when Deities their voice exalt; 
And louder far, than -when creation rose, 
To see creation^s godlike aim, and end. 
So Avell accomplish'd ! so divinely clos'd ! 
To see the mighty dramatist's last act 
(As meet) in glory rising o'er the rest. 
^o fancy' d Gon, a GOD indeed, descends. 
To solve all knots ; to strike the moral home ; 
To throw full day on dai'kest scenes oi time ; 
To clear, commend, exalt, and crown the whole. 
Hence, in one peal of loud, eternal praise. 
The charm'd spectators thunder their applause ; 
And the vast void beyond, applause resounds. 

What then am I ?»— 

Amidst applauding worlds,, 
And worlds celestial, is there found on earth, 



NIGHT NINTH. 235 

^ peevish, dissonant, rebellious string, 

Which jars in the grand chorus, and complains ? 

Censure on thee, LoRE?fzo ! I suspend, 

A.nd turn it on niyseJf; how gi'eatly due ! 

i\ll, all is right, by God ordain'd or done ; 

A.nd who, but God, resum'd the friends he gave ? 

A.nd have I been complaining, then, so long ? 

Complainitig of \n?i favours ; pain, and death? 

Who, without pain's advice, would e'er be good ? 

Who, v/ithout death, but would be good in vain? 

Pain is to save from pain ; all punishment, 

^"o make for peace ; and death, to save from death ; 

A.nd second death, to guard immortal life ; 

To rouse the careless, the presumptuous awe, 

A.nd tuni the tide of souls another way ; 

By the same tenderness divine ordain'd, 

That planted Eden, and high-bloom'd for man, 

A fairer Eden, endless in the skies. 

Heav'n gives us friends to bless the present scene i 
Resumes them, to prepare us for the next. 
All evils natural are moral goods ; 
All discipline, indulgence, on the whole. 
JVo?ie ai-e unhappy ; all have cause to smile. 
But such as to themselves that cause deny. 
Om'faidts are at the bottom of our pains ; 
Error, in act,or jndgme7it, is the source 
Of endless sighs : We sin, or we mistake. 
And nature tax, when false o/»/7u'on stings. 
Let impious grief be banish 'd, joy indulg'd. 
But chiefly tJien, when grief puts in her claim. 
Joy from the joyous, frequently betrays, 
Oft lives in vanity, and dies in woe. 
Joy, amidst ills, corroborates, exalts ; 
'Tis joy, and conquest ; joy, and virtue too. 
A noble fortitude in ills delights 
Heav'n, earth, ourselves; 'tis duty, glory, peace. 
.ifiliction is the good man's shining scene ; 
Prosperity conceals his brightest ray ; 
As night to stars, woe, lustre gives to man. 
Heroes in battle, pilots in the storm, 
And virtue in calamities, adnure. 



236 THE CONSOLATION. 

The crown of manhood is a winter-joy ; 

An evergreen, that stands the nort/iem blast, 

And blossoms in the rigour of our fate. 
'Tis a prime part of happiness, to know 

How much unhappiness 77wst prove our lot ; 

A part which few possess ! I'll pay life's tax, 

Without one rebel murmur, from this hour, 

Nor think it misery to be a ma7i ; 

Who thinks it is, shall never be a g'od. 

Some ills we Avish for, when we wish to live. 

What spoke proud passion .?— " * Wish my bein; 
lost !" 
Presumptuous ! Blasphemous ! Absurd ! and false ! 
The triumph of my soul is,— That I am ; 
And therefore that I inay be — Wliat? Lorexzo ! 
Look inwai'd, and look deep ; and deeper still ; 
Unfathomably deep our treasure runs 
In golden veins, thi*ough all eternity ! 
Ages, and ages, and succeeding still 
New ages, cohere this phantom of" an hour, 
Which courts, each night, dull slumber, for repair. 
Shall wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise, 
And fly through infinite, and all unlock ; 
And (if deserv'd) by heav'n's redundant love. 
Made half-adorable itself, adore ; ^ 
And find, in adoration, endless joy ! 
Where thou, not master of a moment Aere, 
Frail as the flow'r, and fleeting as the gale, 
May'st boast a whole eternity, enrich 'd 
With all a kind Omnipotence can pour. 
Since Adam fell, no mortal, uninspir'd. 
Has ever yet conceivM, or ever shall. 
How kind is God, how great (if good) is Man. 
No man too largely from heav'n's love can hope. 
If what is hop'd he labours to secure. 

Ills ? — There are none : AU gracious ! none from 
thee ; 
From man full many ! Num'rous is the race 
Of blackest ills, and those immortal too, 
Begot by madness on fair liberty ; 

* Referring to the First Night. 



NIGHT NINTH. 237 

leav'n's daughter, hell-debauch'd ! Her hand alone 
In locks distraction to the sons of men, 
'ast barr'4 by thine ; high-wall'd with adamariii;, 
Juaixled Avith teiTors reaching to this world, 
Ind cover'd with the thunders of thy law ; 
Vhose threats are mercies^ whose injunctions, guides 
Assisting, not restraining, reasoiCs choice ; 
Vhose sanctions, unavoidable results 
! Vom Nature's course, indulgently reveal'd ; 
f unreveai'd, more dang'rous, not less sure. 
i Hius, an indulgent father warns his sons, 
' Do this; J!y that" — nor always tells the cause; 
*leas'd to reward, as duty to his will, 
I conduct needful to their own repose. 
I Great God of wonders ! (If, thy love survey'd, 
k.ught else the name of wondei'ful retains) 
tVhat rocks are these, on wliich to build our trust ! 
Thy ways admit no blemish ; none I find ; 
)r"this alone — " That none is to be found." 
ifot one, to soften censure's hardy crime ; 
<rot one, to palliate peevish grief's complaixt, 
/Vho, like a demon, murmuring, from the dust, 
)ares into judgment call her judge — Supreme ! 
i^or all I bless thee ; most, for the severe ; 
Jer* death — mi/ oxon at hand — the fiery gulph. 
That flaming bound of wrath Omnipotent ! 
t thunders ; but it thundei-s to preserve ; 
t strengthens what it strikes ; its wholesome dread 
^. verts the dreaded pain ; its hideous groans 
foin heav'n's sweet hallelujahs in thy praise, 
ireat Source of Good alone ! How kind in all ! 
n vengeance kind ! Pain, death, Gehenna, save. 

Thus, in thj' world material, mighty mind ! 
*f ot that alone which solaces, and shines. 
The rough and gloomy, challenges our praise. 
The winter is as needful as the spring ; 
rhe thunder, as the Sun ; a stagnate mass 
Jf vapovu's breeds a pestilential air : 
STor more propitious the Favonian breeze 



238 THE CONSOLATION. 

To nature's health, than purifying storms ; 
The (h'ead volcano ministers to good. 
Its smother'd flames might undermine the world.-* 
Loud ^tnas fuhninate in love to man ; 
Comets good omens are, when duly scan'd ; 
And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine. 

Man is responsible for ills receiv'd ; 
Those we call -wretched, are a chosen band, 
Compei'd to refuge in the right, for peace. 
Amid my list of blessings infinite. 
Stand this the foremost, " That my heart has bled.^ 
'Tis heav'n's last effort of good-will to man ; 
AVhen pdiii can't bless, heav'n quits us in despair. 
Who fails to gi'ieve, when just occasion calls, 
Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest ; 
Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart ; 
Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends. 
May heav'n ne'er trust my friend with happiness, 
'Till it has taught him how to bear it well. 
By previous pain ; and made it safe to sm?7e / 
Snch smiles are mine, and s^tch may they remain ; 
Nor hazai'd their extinction, from excess. 
ftly change of hea7't a change of s:i/!e demands ; 
The CoxsoLATiON cancels the Co:.'i'LAiNT, 
And makes a convert of my guilty song. 

As when o'er-labour'd, and inchn'd to breathe, 
A panting traveller, some rising gi'ound. 
Some small ascent, has gain'd, he turns him round 
And measures with his eye the various vale. 
The fields, woods, meads, and rivers, he has past j 
And, satiate of his jomniey, thinks of home, 
FiUdear'd by distance, nor affects more toil : 
Thus I, tliough small, indeed, is that ascent 
The muse has gain'd, review the prsths she trod ; 
A'^arious, extensive, beaten but by few : 
And, conscious of her prudence in repose. 
Pause; and with pleasure meditate an end, 
Tiiougli still remote ; so fruitful is my theme. 
Through many a field of moral, and divine, 
The muse has stray'd ; and much of sorrow seen 
In human ways ; and much of false and vain ,- 



NIGHT NINTH. 239 

Which none, who ti'avel this bad road, can miss. 
O^ar friends deceased full Itfeartily she wept ; 
Of love divine the wonders slie display'd ; 
Prov'd man i7nmortal ; shew'd the source of joy ; 
The grand tribunal rais'd ; assigiiM the bounds 
O^ human grief : Infe'iv, to close the whole. 
The moral muse has shadow'd out a sketch, 
Tho' not in form, nor with a RAPHAEL-stroke, 
Of most our weakness needs believe, or do, 
In this our land of travel, and of hope, 
For peace on earth, or prospect of the skies. 

What then remains ? — Much ! much ! a mighty 

debt. 
To be discharg'd : These thoughts, O Night ! are 

thine ; 
From thee they came, like lovers' secret sighs. 
While others slept. So, Cynthia (poets feign,) 
In shadows veil'd, soft sliding from her sphere. 
Her Shepherd cheer'd; of her enamoux''d less. 
Than I of thee. — And art thou still unsung. 
Beneath whose brow, and by whose aid, I sing ? 
Immortal silence ! Where shall I begin ? 
Whei-e end ? Or how steal music from the spheres. 
To soothe their goddess .■' 

O majestic Night ! 
J^ature's gi'eat ancestor ! Day's elder-born ! 
And fated to survive the transient Sun ! 
By mortals, and immortals, seen with awe ! 
A starry crown thy raven brow adorns. 
And azure zone, thy waist; clouds, in heav'n's 

loom 
Wrought through varieties of shape and shade. 
In ample folds of drapery divine. 
Thy flowing mantle form ; and, heav'n throughout. 
Voluminously pour thy pompous train. 
Thy gloomy grandeurs {JWituve^s most august. 
Inspiring aspect !) claim a grateful verse ; 
And, like a sable curtain, stan-'d with gold. 
Drawn o'er my labours past, shall close the scene. 

And what, O man ! so worthy to be sung ? 
What more prepares us for tlie songs of heaven ? 



240 THE CONSOLATION. 

Creation of archangels is the theme ! 
What, to be sung, so needful ? What so well 
Celestial joys prepare us to sustain ? 
The soul of man, HIS face desigu'd to see, 
Who gave these wonders to be seen by man, ^ 
Has liere a previous scene of objects great^ 
On which to dwell ; to stretch to that expanse 
Of thought, to rise to that exalted height 
Of achniration, to contract that awe'. 
And give her whole capacities that strength, 
Which best may qualify for ^«a^ joy. 
The more our spirits are enlarg'd on earthy 
The deeper draught shall they receive of heav*n. 

Heav'n's King ! whose face unveil'd consummates 
bliss; 
Redundant bliss ! which fills that mighty void. 
The whole creation leaves in human hearts ! 
Thou, w ho didst touch the lip of Jesse's son,* 
Rapt in sweet contemplation of these fires. 
And set his harp in concert with the spheres I 
While of thy works material the supreme 
I dare attempt, assist my daring song. 
Loose me from earth's enclosure, from the SurvtP^ 
C or tr acted circle, set my heart at large ; 
Eliminate my spirit, give it range 
Through provinces of thought yet unexplor'd ; 
Teach me, by this stupendous scaffolding. 
Creation's golden steps, to climb to Thee. 
Teach me with art gi'eat JVature to controul. 
And spread a lustre o'er the shades of lught. 
Feel I thy kind assent ? And shall the Sxin 
Be seen at midnight, rising in my song ? 

LoTiExzo ! come, and warm thee : Thou whose 
heart, 
WTiose little heart is moor'd within a nook 
Of this obscure terrestrial, anchw weigh. 
Another ocean calls, a nobler port ; 
/ am thy pilot, / thy prosp'rous gale. 
Gainful thy voyage through yon azure main : 



David, 1 Samuel, xvi. 18, 24. 



NIGHT NINTH. 2il 

Main, without tempest, pirate, rock, or shore ; 
And whence thou may'st import eternal Avealth ; 
And leave to beggared minds the pearl and gokl. 
Thy travels dost thou hoast o' ttv foreign realms t 
Thou stranger to the toorld ! Thy tour begin; 
Tliy tour through nat^ire's universal orh. 
J\''ature delineates her whole chai*t at large. 
On soai'ing souls, that sail among the spheres ; 
And man how purblind, it' unknown the whole ', 
Who circles spacious earthy then travels herCy 
Shall own, he never was from home before! 
Come, nxy Prometheus,* from thy pointed rock 
O^ false ambition, if unchain'd, we'll mount; 
We'll innocently steal celestial fire. 
And kiiidle our devotion at the stars ; 
A theft, that shall not chuin, but set thee free. 

Above our atmosphere's intestine wars. 
Rain's fountain-head, the magazine of bail ; 
Above the northern nests of feather'd snOM-s, 
The brew of thunders, and the flaming foi-ge 
That forms the crooked lightning ; 'hove the caves 
Where infant tempests v,ait their growing wings, 
And tune their tender voices to that roar. 
Which soon, perhaps, sliall shake a guilty world ; 
Above misconstru'd omens of the sky, 
Far-travel'd comets calculated blaze, 
Elance thy thought, and think of more than man. 
Thy soul, 'till now, contracted, withcr'd, shrunk, 
Hlighted by blasts of earth's unwholesome air, 
AMU blossom here ; spread all her faculties 
To these bright ardours ; ev'ry power unfold, 
And rise into sublimities of thought. 
Stai's teach, as well as shi7ie. At A'ature's birth. 
Thus, their commission ran — " Be kind to man.'^ 
Where art thou, poor benighted tiavellerl 
The stars will light thee, though the moon shouW 

fail. 
Where art thou, more benighted ! more astray ' 
lu ways immoral? The stars call thee back ; 

• Night the Eighth. 



24« THE CONSOLATION. 

And, if obeyed their counsel, set thee right. 

Where art thou, virtve-militant .' the stars 

Are thine alUes (ail 'listed on thy side) 

By thousands, and ten thousands they advance 

Their bright battalions, in fair virtue s cause ; 

And keep strict watch, and nightly light their fires. 

Fires of alarm, to warn thee of the foe ; 

The foe that claims these regions as Ms own ; 

Usui-per bold ! high styl'd, " The prince of air ! 

Beneath nighfs awful banner, let us draw 

Siderial loisdotri's formidable swonl, 

And send him headlong to far other flames. 

Michael's alone, the sword his mighty arm 

Pluck'd from the golden column in the mount. 

The mount celestial, where the sons of Gon 

Hang up Heav'n's vengeance far above the stars, 

Above the sagittary's humble bow ; 

Could give the swarthy daemon deeper wound. 

And was there need of ampler field than this. 
When giaut-angels, giant-angels met. 
In fiery conflict and outrageous storm, 
To controvert the sceptre of the skies ? 

This prospect vast, what is it ? — Weigh'd aright, 
'Tis Nature's system of divinity, 
And ev'ry student of the night inspires. 
'Tis elder scripture, writ by God's own hand ; 
Scripture authentic ! uncorrupt by man. 
Lorenzo ! with my radius (the rich gift 
Of thought nocturnal !) I'll point out to thee 
Its various lessons ; some that may surprise 
An un-adept in mysteries of Night ; 
Little, perhaps, expected in her school. 
Nor thought to gi'ow on planet, or on star. 
Bulls, lions, scorpions, monstei's here we feign ; 
Ourselves more monstrous, not to see what here 
Exists indeed ; — a lecture to mankind. 

What read we here ? — Th' existence of a GOD ? 
Yes ; and of other beings, man above ; 
Natives of Ether / Sons of higher climes ! 
Immortal light ! that governs these of fire ! 
And what may move Lobenzo's wonder jnorc. 



NIGHT NINTH. 243 

TJtetixitt is written in the skies. 

And whose eternity ? Lorexzo ! Thine ; 

JMankincfs eternity. Nor Faith alone, 

Vihtue grows here ; here springs the sov'reign cui'e 

Of ahnost ev'ry vice ; but chiefly tlmie ; 

IVrathy, pride f ambition^ and impure desire. 

Dost ask — " Why call I thee at this late hour. 

Which all-ivise jYature destin'd to repose ?" 

Yes, and to fit us for repose more sweet 

Than down can yield, or man on earth enjoy : 

Own all-wise JK'atnre wiser still in this. 

Lorenzo ! Tiiou canst wake at midnight too. 
Though not on morals bent ; A7nbition, pleasure f 
Those tyrants I for thee so lately* fought. 
Afford their harass'd slaves but slender rest. 
Tliou, to wliom midnight is immoral noon. 
And the sun's noon-tide blaze, prime dawn of day ; 
Not by thy climate, but capricious crime. 
Commencing one of our antipodes ! 
In tliy nocturnal rove, one moment halt, 
'Tvvixt stage and stage, of riot, and cabal ; 
And lift thine eye (if bold an eye to lift. 
If bold to meet the face of injur'd heav'n) 
To yonder stars : For other ends they shine, 
Than to light revellers from sliame to shame. 
And, thus, be made accomplices in guilt. 
Why from yon arch, that infinite of space. 
With infinite of lucid orbs replete. 
Which set the living firmament on fire. 
At the first glance, in such an overwhelm 
Of wonderful, on man's astonish'd sight. 
Rushes Omnipotence ? To curb our pride ; 
Our reason rouse, and lead it to that jiOAy'r, 
I'VHiose love lets down these silver chains of light ; 
To draw up man's ambition to himself^ 
And bind onr chaste affections to his throne. 
Thus the three virtues, least alive on earth. 
And welcom'd on heav'n's coast m ith most applause. 
An hiimble, pure^ and heavenly-minded heart. 
Are here inspir'd : — ^And canst thou gaze too long ? 

• Night Eighth. 



2i4 THE CONSOLATION. 

Nor stands thy wrath depriv'd of its reproof. 
Or un-upbraided by this radiant choir. 
The phmets of each system represent 
Kind neighbours ; mutual amity prevails ; 
Sweet interchange of rays receiv'd, return'd ; 
Enlight'ning, and enligliten'd ! Ail, at once. 
Attracting, and attracted ! Patriot-like, 
None sins against the weltare of the whole ; 
B'lit tlieir reciprocal, unselfish aid, 
Affords an emblem of milleniual love. 
Nothing in nature, much less conncioiis being, 
Was e'er created solely for itself: 
I'hus man his sov'reign duty learns in this 
J)faterial picture of benevolence. 
And know, of all our supercilious race, 
Thou most inflammable ! thou Avasp of men ! 
Man's angry heart, inspected, would be found 
As rightly set, as are the starry spheres ; 
'Tis JWihtreh structure, broke by stubborn will, 
Breeds all that un-celestial discord there. 
Wilt thou not feel the bias nature gave ? 
Canst thou descend from converse with the skies. 
And seize thy brother's tlii-oat ? — For what ? — 

clod? 
An inch of earth ? The planets cry, " For^bear.** 
They chase our double darkness -, iiatiire''s gloom. 
And' (kinder still) our intellectual night. 

And see, day^s amiable sister sends 
Her invitation, in the softest rays 
Of mitigated lustre ; courts thy sight. 
Which suffers from her tyrant-brother's blaze. 
JVight grants thee the full freedom of the skies. 
Nor rudely reprimands thy lifted eye ; 
With gain, and Joj/, she bribes thee to be wise. 
JVight opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe. 
Which gives those venerable scenes full weight, 
And deep reception, in th' intender'd heart ; 
While light peeps through the darkness, like a spy 
And darkness shews its grandeur by the light. 
Nor is the profit greater than tlie jov, 



NIGHT NINTH. 245 

If human hearts at glorious objects glow, 
And admh'ation can inspire delight. 

What speak I more, than I, this moment, feel ? 
With pleasing stupor first the soul is struck : 
rStupo^ ordain'd to make her truly wise ) 
Then into transport staiijng from her trance. 
With love, and admiration, how she glows ! 
This gorgeous apjiai-atus ! This display ! 
This ostentation of creative pow'r ! 
This theatre !— what eye can take it in ? 
By what divine enchantment was it rais'd. 
For minds of the first magnitude to launch 
[n endless speculation, and adore ? 
One Sun by day, by night te7i thoicsand. shine ; 
And light us deep into the Deity ; 
How boundless in magnificence and might ! 
O what a confluence of ethereal fires. 
From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of heav'n. 
Streams to a point, and centres in my sight ! 
Nor tarries thei'e ; I feel it at my heart. 
My heart, at once, it humbles and exalts ; 
Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies. 
Who sees it unexalted ? or unaw'd ? 
Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen .' 
Matei'ial offspring of Omj? ipotence ! 
Inanimate, all-animating birth ! 
Work worthy Him who made it ! Worthy praise ! 
All praise ! Praise more than human ! nor deny'd 
Thy praise tUvijie / But though man drown'd in 

sleep, 
With-holds his homage, not alone I wake ; 
Bright legions swai'm unseen, and sing, unheard 
By mortal ear, the glorious Architect 
In this his universal temple hung 
With lustres, with innumerable lights. 
That shed religion on the soul ; at once. 
The temple, and the preacher ! O how loud 
It calls devotion ! genuine gi-OAvth of night ! 

Devotion ! Daughter of astronomy ! 
An undevout astronomer is mad. 
True i all things speak a God ; but in the small, 



^6 THE CONSOLATION. 

Men trace out him : in great, he seizes man ; 

Seizes, and elevates, and wraps and fills 

AVith new enquiries, 'mid associates new. 

Tell me, ye stars ! ye planets ! tell me, all 

Ye starr'd, and planeted, inhabitants ! What is it ? 

What ai'e these sons of wonder ! Say, proud arch ! 

(Within whose azure palaces they dwell) 

Built with divine ambition ! in disdain 

Of limit built ! built in the taste of hea\''n ! 

Vast concave ! Ample dome ! Wast thou design'd 

A meet apartment for the Deity ' 

Not so ; that thought alone thy state impairs, 

Thy lofty sinks, and shallows thy profound, 

And straitens thy diffusive ; dAvarfs the whole, 

And makes an universe an orrennj. 

But when I drop mine eye, and look on man, 
Thy right regain'd, thy gi-andem' is restor'd, 
O JWiture ! wide flies off th' expanding round. 
As M'hen whole magazines, at once, are fir'd, 
The smitten air is hoUow'd by the blow ; 
The vast displosion dissipates the clouds ; 
Shock'd Ether's billows dash the distant skies ; 
Thus (but far more) th' expanding round flies off. 
And leaves a mighty void, a spacious womb. 
Might teem Ayith new creation ; re-inflam'd 
Thy luminaries triumph, and assume 
Di\inity themselves. Nor was it strange, 
Matter high-wrought to such surprising pomp, 
Such godlike gloiy, stole the style of .gods. 
From ages dark, obtuse, and steep'd in sense : 
For, sure, to sense, they truly are divine. 
And half-absolv'd idolatry from guilt ; 
Nay, turn'd it into virtue. Such it was 
In those, who put forth all they had of man 
Unlost, to lift their thought, nor mounted higher ; 
But, weak of wing, on planets perch 'd ; and thought 
What was their highest, must be their ador'd. 

But they how loeak, who could no higher mount ? 
And are there, then, Lokexzo ! those, to whom 
Unseen, and unexistent are the same ? 
And if incomprehensible is join'd. 



NIGHT NINTH. ^7 

Who dare pronounce it madness to believe ? 

Why has the mighty Buildeh thrown aside 

All measure in his work ; stretch'd out his line 

So far, and spread amazement o'er the whole ? 

Then, (as he took delight in wide extremes,) 

Deep in the bosom of his universe, 

Dropt down tliat reasoning mite, that insect, marly 

To crawl, and gaze, and wonder at the scene ? 

That man might ne'er presume to plead amazement 

For disbelief of wonders in himself. 

Shall God be less miraculous, than what 

His hand has form'd ? Shall mysteries descend 

From iin-myste7^io7is ? Tilings more elevate. 

Be more familiar ? Uncreated lie 

More obvious than created, to the gi'asp 

Of human thought ? The rnore of wonderful 

Is heard in him, the 7nore we should assent. 

Could we conceive him, God he could not be ; 

Or he not God, or ive could not be men. 

A God alone can comprehend a God : 

JVfan's distance how immense ! On such a theme. 

Know this, Lores zo ! (seem it ne'er so strange) 

Nothing can satisfy, but what confounds : 

Nothing but what astonishes, is time. 

The scene thou seest, attests the truth I sing, 

And ev'ry star sheds light upon thy creed. 

These stai's, this furnitiu'c, this cost of heav'n, 

if but reported, thou hadst ne'er believ'd ; 

But thine eye tells thee, the rcmance is true. 

The grand of Nature is th' Almighty's oath. 

In reaso7i's coui*t, to silence inibelief. 

How my mind, op'ning at this scene, imbibes 
The moral emanations of the skies, 
While nought, pei'haps, Lobknzo less admires ! 
Has the great Sov'reign sent ten thousand worlds 
To tell us, he resides above them all. 
In glory's unapproachable recess ? 
And dare earth's bold inhabitants deny 
The sumptuous, the magnific embassy 
A moment's audience ? Turn we, nor will hear 
From whom they come, or what they would Loapart 



348 THE CONSOLATION. 

For man's emolument; sole cause that stoops 

Their grandeur to man's eye ? Lorenzo ! rouse ; 

Let thought, awaken'd, take the lightning's wing, 

And glance from east to west, from pole to pole. 

Who sees, but is confounded, or convinc'd ? 

Renounces reason, or a God adores ? 

Mankind was sent into the world to see : 

Sight gives the science needful to their peace ; 

That obvious science asks small leai'iiing-'s aid. 

Wouldst thou on metaphysic pinions soar ? 

Or wound thy patience amid logic thorns ? 

Or travel history's enormous round ? 

J\l'atiire no such hard task enjoins : She gave 

A make to man, directive of his thought ; 

A make set upright, pointing to the stars, 

As who should say, ** Read thy chief lesson there." 

Too late to read this manuscript of heav'n. 

When, like a parchment-scroll, shrunk up by flames. 

It folds Lorenzo's lesson fi'om his sight. 

Lessor, how various ! Not the God alone, 
I see his 7mnisters ; I see, diffus'd 
In radiant orders, essences sublime. 
Of various offices, of vai'ious plume. 
In heav'nly liveries, distinctly, clad. 
Azure, gi-een, purple, pearl, or downy gold, 
Or all commix'd ; they stand, with wings outspx'cad, 
List'ning to catch the master's least command. 
And fly through nature, ere the moment ends ; 
Numbers innumei'able '.—Well conceiv'd 
By Pagan, and by Christian ! O'er each sphere 
Presides an angel, to direct its course. 
And feed, or fan, its flames ; or to dischai*ge 
Other high trusts unknown. For who can see 
Such pomp of matter, and imagine, nmul, 
For which alone inanimate was made. 
More sparingly dispens'd ? That nobler Son, 
Far liker the great Sire ! — 'Tis thus the skies 
Inform us of superiors numberless. 
As much in excellence, above mankind. 
As above earth, in inagniijule, the spheres. 
Tlwse, as a cloud of witnesses, hang o'er us ; 
In a throng'd Uieatre ai-e all oi^r deeds ; 



NIGHT NINTH. 249 

Perhaps, a thousand demi-gofls descend 
On ev'ry beam we see, to walk with men : 
Awful reflection ! Strong n straint from ill ! 

Yet, here, our virtue finds still stronger aid 
From these ethereal glories sense surve3^s. 
Something, like ma^c, strikes from this blue vault } 
With just attention is it \iew'd ? We feel 
A sudden succour, unimplor'd, unthought ; 
j\''ature herself does half the work oi man. 
Seas, rivers, mountains, forests, desei'ts, I'Ocks, 
The promontory's height, the depth profound 
Of subtei-ranean, excavated grots, 
Black-brow'd, and va;dted high, and yawning wide 
Fi-om JVature's structure, or the scoop of time : 
If ample of dimension, vast of size, 
Ev'n these an aggrandizing impulse.give ; 
Of solemn thought enthusiastic heights 
Ev'n tJiese infuse.— -But what of vast in these? 
Nothing; — or we must own the skies forgot. 
Much less in ar^.— Vain art ! Thou pigmy -pow'r ! 
How dost thou swell, and strut, with human pride. 
To shew thy littleness ! What childish toys, 
Ti\y watry columns squirted to the clouds ! 
Thy bason'd I'ivei's, and imprisou'd seas ! 
Thy mountains moulded into forms of men ! 
Thy huiidred-g-ated capitals ! Or those 
Where three days travel left us much to ride ; 
Gazing on miracles hy mortals wrought. 
Arches triumplial, theatres immense. 
Or nodding ^(7 /v7e?is pendent in mid-air! 
Or temples proud to meet their Gods half-way ! 
Yet theae afiect us in no common kind. 
What then the force of such superior scenes ! 
Euter a temple, it will strike an awe : 
What awe from this the dkity has built! 
A good man seen, though silent, counsel gives : 
The touch'd spectator wishes to he wise : 
In a bright mirror his own hands have made. 
Here we see something like tlie face of god. 
Seems it not then enough, to say, Lobexzo, 
To man abandon'd, " Hast thoit seen the skies .?'* 



550 THE CONSOLATION. 

And yet, so tliwarted Nature's kind design 
By daring man, he makes her sacred awe 
rrhat guard from ill) his shelter, his temptation 
To more than common guilt, and quite inverts 
Celestial art's intent. The trembling stars 
See crimes gigantic, stalking thi-ough the gloom 
With front erect, tliat hide their head by day, 
And making night still darker by their deeds. 
Slurab'ring in covert, 'till the shades descend, 
JRapme and murder, link'd, now prowl for prey. 
The miser earths his treasure ; and the thief. 
Watching the mole, half beggars him, ere mom. 
Now plots, and foul conspiruciea, awake ; 
And, muffling up their hoi-rors from the moon, 
Havock and devastation they prepare. 
And kingdoms tott'ring in the field of blood. 
Now sons of riot in mid-revel rage. 
What shall I do ? Suppress it ? or proclaim ? 
Why sleeps the thunder ? Now, Lorenzo ! now. 
His best friend's couch the rank adulterer 
Ascends secure ; and laughs at gods and men. 
Prepost'rous madmen, void of fear or shame. 
Lay their crimes bare to these chaste eyes of heav'n ; 
Yet shrink, and shudder at a mortal's sight. 
Were moon, and stars, for villains only made ? 
To gidde, yet screen them, with tenebrious light ? 
N'o ; they were made to fashion the sublime 
Of human hearts, and -wiser make the ivise. 

Those ends were answer'd once ; when mortals 
liVd "^ 

Of stronger wing, of aquiline ascent 
In theory sublime. O how unlike 
Those vermin of the night, this moment sung. 
Who crawl on earth, and on her venom feed ! 
Those ancient sages, hnman stars ! They met 
Their brothers of the skies, at midnight hour ; 
Their counsel ask'd ; and, what they ask'd, obei/d. 
The Stagirite, and Plato, he who drank 
The poison'd bowl, and he of Tiisctdum, 
With him of Cordtiba (immortal names !) 
In these unbounded, and Ehisian, walks, 



NIGHT NINTH. 25i 

An area fit for Gods, and Godlike men, 
Tiiey took their nightly round, through radiant paths 
By Seraphs trod ; instructed, chiefly, thus. 
To tread in their bright footsteps here below ; 
To walk in worth still brighter than the skies. 
There^ they contracted their contempt of earth ; 
Of hopes eternal kindled, there^ the fire ; 
There, as in near appi-oach, they glow'd, and grew 
(Great visitants !) more intimate with God, 
More worth to men^ more joyous to themselves. 
Through various virtues, they, with ardour, ran 
The Zodiac of their learn'd, illustrious lives. 

In Christiafi hearts, O for a Pagan zeaV ! 
A needful, but opprobrious pray'r ! As much 
Our ardour less, as greater is our light. 
How monstrous this in morals .' Scarce more strange 
Would \\iis phenomenon in nature strike, 
A Su7i, that froze us, or a star, that warm'd. 

What taught these heroes of the moral world ? 
To these thou giv'st thy praise, give credit too ; 
These doctors ne'er wei'e pension'd to deceive thee ; 
And Pagan tutors are thy tustc—^They taught. 
That, narrow views, betray to misery : 
That, wise it is to comprehend the whole : 
That virtue i-ose from nature, ponder'd well, 
Tlie single base of virtue built to heav'n : 
Titat, God, and nature, our attention claim: 
That, nature is the glass reflecting God, 
As, by the sea, reflected is the Sun, 
Too glorious to be gaz'd on in his sphere : 
That, mind immortal loves immortal aims : 
That, boundless mind affects a boundless space • 
That, vast surveys, and the sublime of things. 
The soul assimilate, and make her great : 
That, therefore, heav'n her glories, as a fund 
Of inspiration, thus spreads out to man. 
Such are their doctrines ; such the mght inspir'd. 

And what more true ? What truth of greater 
weight ? 
The soul of man was made to walk the skies ; 
Delightful outlet of her prison here ! 



252 THE CONSOLATIONT. 

Tlxere^ disincumber'd from her chains, the ticjs 
Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; 
There^ freely can respire, dilate, extend. 
In full proportion let loose all her pow'rs ; 
And, undelnded, grasp at something great. 
Nor, as a stranger, does slie wander there ; 
But, wonderful herself, through wonder strays ; 
Contemplating their grandeur, finds hev own ; 
Dives deep in their economy divine. 
Sits high in judgment on their various laws. 
And, like a master, judges not amiss. 
Hence greatly pleas'd, and justly proud, the soul 
Grows conscious of her birth celestial ; breathes 
More life, more vigour, in her native air ; 
And feels herself at home among the stars ; 
And, feeling, emulates her country's praise. 

What call we, then, tlie firmament, Lorenzo ? 
As earth the body, since, the skies sustain 
The soul with food, that gives immortal life. 
Call it, the noble pasture of the mind ; 
Which there expatiates, strengthens, and e.\ults, 
And riots through the luxuries of thought. 
Call it, the garden of the nKiTr, 
Blossom'd. with stars, redundant in the growth 
Of fruit ambrosial ; moral fruit to man. 
Call it, the breast-plate of the true High-Priest, 
Ardent with gems oracular, that give. 
In points of highest moment, right response ; 
And ill-neglected, if we prize oui' peace. 

Thus, have we found a trne astrology ; 
Thus, have we found a neA\', and noble sense. 
In which alone stars govei-n human fates. 
O that the stars (as some have feigu'd) let fall 
Bloodshed, and havock, on embattled realms. 
And rescu'd monarchs from so black a guilt ! 
BouRBOif ! this wish how gen'rous in a foe ! 
Wouldst thou be great, wouldst thou become a god. 
And stick thy deathless name among the stars. 
For mighty conquests on a needless point ? 
Instead of forging chains iov Joreig^ners, 
Bastile thy tutor : Grandeur all thy aim ^ 



NIGHT NINTH. 253 

As yet thou know'st not what it is : How gi'eat. 
How glorious, then, appears the mind of man, 
When in it all the stars, and planets, roll ! 
And what it seems, it is : Great objects make 
Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge ; 
Those still more Godlike, as these more divine. 
And more divine than these, thou canst not see. 
Dazzled, o'erpow'r'd, with the delicious drauglit 
Of miscellaneous splendours, how I reel 
From thought to thought, inebriate, without end ! 
An Kden this ! a Pahadise ^mlost ! 
I meet the beitt in ev'ry view. 
And tremble at my nakedness before him ! 
O that I could but reach the tree of life / 
For here it grows, unguaixled from our taste : 
liio flaming- sword denies our entrance Iiere ; 
Would man but gather, he might live ybr ever. 

LoaExzo ! much oi moral hast thou seen. 
Of curious arts art thou more fond ? -Then mark 
The matJiematic glories of the skies. 
In number, weight, and measure, all oi-dain'd. 
LoRE?fZo's boasted builders, chance, and/a^e, 
Are left to finish his aerial tow'rs ; 
Wisdom, and choice, theh' well-known characters 
Here deep impress ; and claim it for their own. 
Though splendid all, no splendoiu* void of use ; 
Use rivals beauty : Art contends with poiv'r ; 
No wanton waste, amid eftuse expense ; 
The great Oecoxomist adjusting all 
To prudent pomp, magnificently wise. 
How rich the pi'ospect ! and for ever new ! 
And newest to the man that views it most : 
For newer still in infinite succeeds. 
Then, these aerial racers, O how swift ! 
How the shaft loiters from the strongest siring ! 
Spirit alone can distance the career. 
Orb above orb ascending without end ! 
Cii-cle in circle, without end, enclos'd ! 
Wheel within wheel ; Ezekiel ! like to thine 1* 

• Ezekiel x. 9, lo. 



254 THE CONSOLATION. 

Like thine, it seems a vision, or a dream ; 
Though seetiy we labour to believe it trii^ ! 
What involution ! What extent ; what swarms 
Of worlds, that laugh at earth / immensely great ! 
Immensely distant from each others' spheres ! 
What then, the wondrous space thro' which they roll? 
At once it quite engulphs all human thought ; 
'Tis comprehension's absolute defeat. 

Nor think thou seest a wild disorder here ; 
Through this illustrious chaos to the sight, 
Ari'angement neat, and chastest order, reign. 
The path prescrib'd, inviolably kept. 
Upbraids the lawless sallies of mankind. 
Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere ; 
What knots are ty'd ! How soon are they dissolv'd^ 
And set the seeming marry'd planets free ! 
They rove for ever, without error, rove ; 
Confusion unconfus'd : Nor less admu-e 
This tumult untumult'ous ; all on wing ! 
In motion, all ! yet what profound repose ! 
What fervid action, yet no noise ! as aw'd 
To silence by the presence of their Lord ; 
Or hush'd, by his command, in love to man. 
And bid let fall soft beams on human rest. 
Restless themselves. On yon csemilean plain, 
In exultation to their God, and ^/w'/je. 
They dance, they sing eternal Jubilee, 
Eternal celebration of his praise. 
But, since then* song arrives not at our ear. 
Their dance perplexM exhibits to the sight 
Fair hieroglyphic of his peerless pow'r. 
Mai'k, how the labyrinthian turns they take. 
The circles intiicate, and mystic maze. 
Weave the gi'and cypher of Omnipotence : 
To Gods, how great ! how legible to ma7i ! 

Leaves so much wonder greater wonder still ? 
Where are the pillars that support the skies ? 
What more than Atlantean shoulder props 
Th' incumbent load ? What magic, what strange art. 
In fluid air these pond'rous orbs sustains ? 
Who would not think them hung in golden chains ? 



NIGHT NINTH. 255 

And so they are ; in the high a\ ill of heav'n, 
Which fixes all ; makes adamant of air. 
Or air of adamant ; makes all of nought, 
Or nought of all ; if such the dread decree. 

Imagine from their deep foundations torn 
The most gigantic sons of earth, the broad 
And tow'ring ^Ips^ all tost into the sea ; 
And, light as down, or volatile as air. 
Their bulks enormous dancing on the waves, 
In time, and measure, exquisite ; while all 
The winds, in emulation of the spheres. 
Tune their sonorous instruments aloft ; 
The concert swell, and animate the ball. 
Would this appear amazing P What, tlien, worlds, 
In a fair thinner element sustain'd. 
And acting the same part, Avith greater skill. 
More rapid movement, and for noblest e7ids ? 

;More obvious ends to pass, are not these stars 
The seats majestic, proud imperial thrones. 
On which angelic delegates of heav'n, 
At cei-tain periods, as the Sov'reign nods. 
Discharge high trusts of vengeance, or of love : 
To clothe, in outward grandeur, grand design. 
And acts most solemn, still more solemnize ? 

Ye citizens of air ! what ardent thanks ; 
What full effusion of the grateful heart. 
Is due from man indulg'd in such a sight ! 
A sight so noble ! and a sight so kind ! 
It drops ne-iO truths at ev'ry neio survey ! 
Feels not Lorexzo something stir within. 
That sweeps away all period? As these spheres 
Jifeasiire duration, they no less inspu*e 
The godlike hope of ages without end. 
The boundless space, through which these rovers 

take 
Their restless roam, suggests the sistcr-tliought 
Of boundless time. Thus, by kind A'ature's skill. 
To man un-labour'd, that important guest, 
Etehnity, finds entrance at the sight : 
And an eternitij, for man ordain 'd. 
Or the-se Ms destin'd midni2:ht counsellors. 



2S6 THE COXSOLATION. 

The stars, had never whisper'd it to man. 
Nature i?ifor))is, but ne'er msidts, her sons. 
Could she then kindle the most ardent wish 
To disappoint it ? — That is blasphemy. 
Thus, of thy ci'eed a second article. 
Momentous, as th' existence of a God, 
Is found (as I conceive) where rarely sought ; 
And thou may'st read thy so7d iminortaly here. 

Here, then, Lorenzo ! on these glories dwell ; 
Nor want the gilt, illuminated roof. 
That calls the wretched gay to dai^k deliglits. 
Assejiiblies P This is one divinely bright ; 
ffere, un-endanger'd in health, wealth, or fame. 
Range through the fairest, and the Sultas"* scorn. 
fie, wise as thou, no crescent holds so fair. 
As that, which on his turban awes a world ; 
And thinks the moon is proud to copy him. 
Look on her, and gain more tlian M'orlds can ^ve, 
A mind superior to the charms o( pow^r. 
Thou muffled in delusions of this life ! 
Can yonder moon turn ocean in his bed. 
From side to side, in constant ebb, and flo'.v. 
And purify from stench his watry realms ? 
And fails her moral infl'ence ? Wants she pOAv'r 
To turn Lorenzo's stubborn tide of thougiit 
From stagnating on earth^s Infected shore. 
And purge from nuisance his corrupted heart ? 
Fails her attraction, when it draws to heav'n ? 
Nay, and to what thou valu'st more, earth's joy P 
Minds elevate, and panting for unseen. 
And defecate from sense, alone obtain 
Full relish of existence un-deflow'r'd, 
The life of life, the zest of worldly bliss. 

All else on earth amounts to what ? To this:- 

" Bab to be suffer' d: blkssinos to be left :" 
Earth's richest inventory boasts no more. 

Of higher scenes be, then, the call obey'd. 
O let me gaze !• — 'Of gazing there's no end. 
O let me think ! Thought too is wilder'd here • 
In mid-v/ay flight imagination tires ; 

• The Emperor of Turkey., 



NIGHT NINTH. 257 

Yet soon re-prunes her wings to soar anew. 

Her point unable to forbear, or gain ; 

So great the pleasure, so profound the plan ! 

A banquet this, where men and angels meet, 

Eat the same manna, mingle earth and heav'n. 

Hp\v distant some of these nocturnal Sims ! 

So distant (says the sage*) 'twei-e not absm'd 

To doubt, it beams, set out at JVaUire's birth, 

Are yet arriv'd at this so foreign world ; 

Though nothing half so rapid as their flight. 

An eye of awe and wonder let me roll, 

And roW for ever : Who can satiate sight 

In such a scene ? in such an ocean wide 

Of deep astonishment ? Where depth, height, breadth 

Are lost in their extremes ; and where to count 

The thick-sown gloi'ies in this field of fire. 

Perhaps a Seraph^ s computation fails. 

Now, go, ambition ! boast thy boundless might 

In conquest, o'er the tenth part of a grain. 

And yet Lorexzo calls for miradeSy 
To give his tott'ring faith a solid base. 
Why call for less than is already thine .' 
Thou art no novice in theology ; 
What is a miracle ? 'Tis a reproach, 
*Tis an implicit satire on mankind ; 
And while it satisfies, it censures too. 
To coinmon-sense, great JWiture's course proclauns 
A DEITY : When mankind falls asleep, 
A miracle is sent, as an alarm. 
To wake the world, and prove him o'er again. 
By recent argument, but not moi'e strong. 
Say, which imports more plenitude of pow'r. 
Or Nature's laws to fix, or to repeal? 
To make a Sun, or stop his mid career ? 
To countermand his orders, and send back 
The flaming courier to the frighted east, 
Warm'd and astonish'd, at his ev'ning ray ? 
Or bid the moon, as with her journey tir'd, 
la Ajaloii's soft, flow'ry vale repose ff 

• Ilugenius. t Joshua Xi 12, 13. 



258 TIIE CONSOLATION. 

Great things are these ; still greater, to create. 

From Ada>i's bow'r look down thro' the whole train 

Of miracles ; resistless is their pow'r ? 

They do not, can not, more amaze the mind, 

Than this, ca//'J un-miraculous survey. 

If duly weigh'd, if rationally seen. 

If seen with human eyes. ^The bi^itey indeed, 

Sees nought but spangles here ; the /oo/, no more. 

Say'st thou, " The course of J\''attire governs all ?" 

The course of A^atiire is the art of God. 

The miracles thou call'st for, this attest ; 

For say. Could JVature JVatiire^s course controul ? 

But, miracles apai't, who sees Him not, 
JK''atiire''s Controuler, Author, Guide, and End ? 
Who turns his eye on Yatiire's midnight face. 
But must enquire — " What hand behind the scene, 
** AVhat arm Almighty, put these wheeling globes 
In motion, and wound up the vast machine ? 
Who rounded in his palm these spacious orbs ? 
Who bow I'd them flaming thro' the dark profound, 
Num'rous as glitt'ring gems of morning dew. 
Or sparks from pop'lous cites in a blaze. 
And set the bosom of Old J\'ight on fire ? 
Peopled her desert, and made horror smile ?'* 
Or, if the military style delights thee, 
(For stars have fought their battles, leagu'd with 

man) 
" Who marshals this bright host .■' Enrols their 

names ? 
Appoints their post, their marches, and retumSj 
Punctual, at stated periods ? Who disbands 
These vet'ran troops, their final duty done. 
If e'er disbanded r"' — He, whose potent word. 
Like the loud trumpet, levy'd first their pow'rs 
In JVighfs inglorious empire, where they slept 
In beds of darkness ; arm'd them with fierce flames. 
Arrang'd, and disciplin'd, and cloth'd in gold ; 
And call'd them out of chaos to the field. 
Where now they war with vice and unbelief. 
O let us join this army ! Joining these. 
Will give U3 hearts intrepid, at that hour. 



NTGHT NINTH. 259 

When brighter flames shall cut a darker night ; 
When these strong demonstrations of a God 
Shall hide their heads, or tumble from their spheres. 
And one eternal curtain cover all ! 

Struck at that thought, as ncAv-awak'd, I lift 
A more enlighten'd eye, and read the stars, 
To man still more propitious ; and their aid 
(Though guiltless of idolatry} implore : 
Nor longer rob them of their noblest name. 
O ye dividers of my time ! Ye bright 
Accomptants of my days, and months, and yeai'S, 
In your fair kalendar distinctly mark'd ! 
Since that authentic, radiant register, 
Tho' man inspects it not, stands good against him ; 
Since you^ and years, roll on, tho' man stands still ; 
Teach me my days to number, and apply 
My trembling heart to xvisdom ;* now beyond 
All shadow oY excuse for fooling on. 
^9^e smooths our path to prudence ; sweeps aside 
The snares, keen appetite, and passion, spread 
To catch stray souls ; and w oe to that grey head, 
"Whose folly -would undo, what ag-e has done ! 
Aid, then, aid, all ye stars ! Much rather, Thott, 
Great Artist ! Thou, whose finger set aright 
This exquisite machine, with all its wheels, 
Though intervolv'd, exact ; and pointing out 
life's rapid, and irrevocable flight, 
With such an index fair, as none can miss. 
Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps 'till it is clos'd. 
Open mine eye, dread Deity ! to read 
The tacit doctrine of thy works ; to see 
Things as they are, unalter'd through the glass 
Of worldly wishes. Time, eternity ! 
('Tis these, »n/s-measur'd, ruin all mankind) 
Set them before me ; let me lay them botli 
In equal scale, and learn their various weight. 
Let time appear a moment, as it is ; 
And let eternity's full orb, at once. 
Turn on my soul, and strike it into heav'n. 
'•When shall I see far moi-e than charms me now ^ 

• Psalm xc. 12. 



260 THE CONSOLATION. 

Gaze on creation's model in thy breast 
Unveil'd, nor wonder at the transcript more ? 
When this vile, foreign dust, which smothers all 
That travel earth's deep vale, shall I shake oft" ? 
When shall my soul her incarnation quit. 
And, re-adopted to thy blest embrace. 
Obtain her apotheosis in Thee ? 

Dost think, Lorenzo ! this is wand'ring wide ? 
No, 'tis directly striking at the mark ; 
To wake thy dead devotion was my point ; 
Ami how I bless .'Yight^s consecrating shades. 
Which to a temple turn an universe ; 
Fill us with great ideas, full of heav'n 
And antidote the pestilential earth ! 
In ev'ry storm, that either frowns or falls. 
What an asylum has the soul in pray'r ! | 

And what a fane is this, in which to pray ! ! 

And what a God must dwell in such a fane ! 
O what a genius must inform the skies ! 
And is Lorexzo's Salamander-heart 
Cold, and untouch'd, amid these sacred fires ? 
O ye nocturnal sparks ! Ye glowing embers. 
On heav'n's broad heartli ! who burn, or burn no 

more. 
Who blaze, or die, as great Jehovah's breath 
Or blows you, or forbears ; assist my song ; 
Pour your whole influence ; exoixise his heart. 
So long possest ; and bring him back to man. 

And is Lorenzo a demurrer still ? 
PiHde in thy parts provokes thee to contest 
Truths, which, contested, put thy parts to shame. 
Nor shame they more Lorenzo's Aearf, than fieart ; 
A faithless heart, how despicably small! 
Too strait, aught great, or gen'rous to receive ! 
Fill'd with an atom ! fill'd, and foul'd, with self/ 
And self mistaken ! Self, that lasts an hour ! 
Instincts and passions, of the nobler kind. 
Lie suftbcated there ; or they alone 
Reason apart, would wake high hope ; and open, 
To ravish'd thought, that intellectual sphere. 
Where o^cfcr, xvisdom, goodnesSi providence^ 



NIGHT NINTH. 261 

Their endless miracles of love display, , 

And proniise all, the truly 9:reat desire. 

rhe mind that would be happy, must be great ; 

Great, in its ivislies ; great in its surveys. 

Extended views a narrow mind extend ; 

Push out its corrugate, expansive make, 

Which, ere-long, more than planets shall embrace. 

A. man of iompass makes a man of worth ; 

Divine contemplate, and become divine. 

As man Avas made for glory, and for bliss, 
All littleness is in approach to woe ; 
Open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide, 
And let in manhood, let in happiness ; 
Admit the boundless theatre of thought 
Prom nothing, up to God ; \vhich makes a man 
fake God from nahtre, nothing great is left ; 
Man's mind is in a pit, and nothing sees ; 
Man's heart is in a jakes, and Ibves the mire. 
Smerge from thy profound ; erect thine eye ; 
see thy distress ! How close art tliou besieg'd \ 
3esieg^d by JVature, the proud scejitic's foe 1 
Plnclos'd by these innuiTierable worlds, 
sparkling conviction on the darkest miiul. 
As in a golden net of PROviDEycE, 
iow art thou caught, sure captive of belief ! 
?rom this thy blest captivity, what art, 
iVhat blasphemy to i*eason, sets thee free ? 
Phis scene is heav'n's indulgent violence : 
>anst thou bear up against this tide of glory ? 
iiVhat is earth bosom'd in these ambient orbs, 
5ut, faith in God impos'd, and press'd on man ? 
)ar'st thou still litigate thy desp'rate cause, 
Jpite of these num'i-ous, awful -ivitnesses, 
^nd doubt the deposition of the skies .'' 
That bi'ight connexion betwei-n hearts, and heav'n! 
) how laboi'ious is thy way to ruin ! 

Laboi'ious ? 'Tis impracticable quite ; 
To sink beyond a do^ibt, in this debate, 
,Vith all its weight of wisdom, and of will, 
I Ind crime flagitious, I defy a fool. 
^nve tvish they did ; but no man disbeliever. 



262 THE CONSOLATION. 

God is a spirit ; spirit cannot strike I 

Their gi-oss, material Organs : God by man 

As mucli is seen, as man a God can see. 

In these astonishing exploits of pow'r, ! 

What order, beauty, motion, distance, size ! 

Concertion of design, how exquisite ! 

How complicate, in their divine jjolice ! 

Apt means ! Gi-eat ends ! Consent to gen'ral good ! 

Each attribute of these material Gods, 

So long (and that with specious pleas) adoi^'d, 

A sep'rate conquest gains o'er rebel thought ; 

And leads in triumph the wliole mind of man. 

LoRKNZO ! Tiiis may seem hara?igue to thee; 
Such all is apt to seem, that thwarts our will. 
And dost thou, then, demand a simple proof 
Of this gi'eat master-moral of the skies, 
Unskill'd, or dis-inclin'd, to read it there ? 
Since 'tis the basis, and all drops without it, 
Take it, in one compact, unbroken chain. 
Such proof insists on an attentive ear ; 
'Twill not make one amid a mob of thoughts, 
And, for thy notice, stiiiggle with the world. 

Retire ; — The tvorld shut out ; Thy thoughts call 

home ; 

Imagination s airy wing repress ; 

Lock up tliy senses ; let no passion stir ; 
Wake all to reason ,• let lier reign alone ; 
Then, in thy souVs deep silence, and the depth 
Of J\'atiire''s silence, midnight, thus enquire, 
As /have done ; and shall enquire no more. 
In Nature's channel, thus the question run : 

" What am I ? and from whetice ? I nothing know. 
But that I am ; and, since I am^ conclude 
Something elernal : Had there e'er been novghty 
J^Tought still had been : Eternal there imist be. 
But ivhat eternal ? Why not human race ? 
And Adam's ancestors without an end ? 
That's hard to be coneeiv'd, since ev'iy link 
Of tliat long-chain'd succession is so frail ; 
Can ev'iy part depsiid, and not the ivhole ? 
Yet grant it true ; nc-n; difficulties rise ; 



NIGHT NINTH. 263 

I'm still quite out at sea ; nor see the shore. 
Whence earthy and these bright orbs ?— -Eternal 

too? 
Grant matter was eternal ; still these orbs 
Would want some other father ; much design 
Is seen in all their motio7is, all their makes ; 
Design implies intelligence, and art : 
That can't be from themselves — or man : that art 
Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow ? 
And nothing greater, yet allow'd, than man. 
Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain, 
Shot througli vast masses of enormous weight ? 
Who bid brute matter^ s restive lump assume 
Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ? 
lias matter innate motion ? Then each atom, 
Asserting its indisputable right 
To dance, would form an universe of lUist : 
Has matter none ? Then whence these glorious 

forms, 
And boundless flights, from shapeless, and reposed? 
Has matter more than motion ? Has it thought, 
.Tu(1gmcnt and genius ? Is it deeply learn'd 
In mathematics ? Has it fram'd s^ich laws, 
Which but to gness, a Nkwton* made immortal ? 
If so, how each sage atom laughs at me. 
Who think a clod inferior to a man / 
If art, to form ; and counsel, to conduct ; 
And that with gi'eater far, than human skill ; 
Resides not in each block ; a Godhead reigns. 
Grant, then, invisible, eternal Mind ; 
That gi'anted, all is solv'd. — But, granting that. 
Draw I not o'er me a still darker cloud P 
Grant I not that which I can ne'er conceive ? 
A being without origin, or end ! 

Hail, human liberty ! There is no God • 

Yet, why ? On either scheme that knot subsists ; 
Subsist it 7nust, in God, or huma?i race ; 
If in the last, how many knots beside. 
Indissoluble all ? Why choose it there, 
Where, chosen, still subsist ten thousand more ? 

* Sir Isaac Newtost. 



264 THE CONSOLxVTION. 

Reject it, where, that chosen, all the rest 
Dispers'd, leave reason's whole horizon clear ? 
This is not Reason's dictate ; Beasoti says. 
Close with the side where 07ie grain turns the scale 
AVhat vast preponderance is here ! can Reason 
Witli louder voice exclaim- — Believe a God ? 
And Reason heard, is the sole mark of man. 
What things impossible must man think true. 
On any other system ; and how strange 
To disbelieve, through mere credulity !" 

If, iji this chain, Lohexzo finds no flaw. 
Let it for ever bind him to belief. 
And where's the link, in Avhich a flaw he finds ? 
And, if a God there is, that God how gi'eat ? 
How gi-eat that Pow'r, whose providential care 
Thro' these bright orbs' dai'k centres darts a ray ! 
Of JVatiire universal thi'eads the whole ! 
And hangs creation, like a precious gem. 
Though little, on the footstool of his throne ! 

That little gem, how large ' A weight let fall 
From a fixt star, in ages can it reach 
This distant earth ? Say, then, Lohexzo ! where^ 
Where ends this mighty building ? Where, begin 
The suburbs of creation ? Where the wall 
"Whose battlements look o'er into the vale 
Of 7zo??.-existence ? Nothing's strange abode ! 
Dread, bottomless amazement ! how it yawns ! 
Mow bhudd'ring yann/ sickens, and recoils ! 
And is it there Lobexzo hopes to dwell ? 
Say, at what point of space Jehovah dropp'd 
His slacken'd line, and laid his balance by ; 
^Veigh'd loorlcis, and measur'd infinite, no more 
Where, rears his terminating pillar liigh 
Its extra-mundane head ? and says, to Gods, 
lu characters illusti'ious as the Sun, 

I stand, the plan's proud period ; I pronounce 
Tlie work accomplishM ; the creation clos'd : 
Shout, all ye Gods! nor shout, ye Gods alone; 
Of all that lives, oi-, if devod of life, 
That rests, or rolls, ye heights and depths resound ! 
H. -sound; resound! ye depths and heights, resound! 



NIGHT NINTH. 265 

Hard are those questions ? Answer, hardef Stilt 
Is this the sole exploit, the single bii'th. 
The solitai'y Son oi poto'r divine? 
Or has th' Almighty Father, with a breathj 
Impregnated the womb of distant space P 
Has he not bid, in various provinces, 
Brother-creations the dark bowels burst 
Of night primaeval ; barren, nOAv, no more ? 
And he the centx'al Sun, transpiercing all 
Those Giant-generations y which disport. 
And dance, as motes, in his meridian ray j 
That ray withdrawn, benighted, or absorb'd. 
In that abyss of horror, whence they sprang; 
While chaos triumphs, re-possest of all 
Rival creation ravish'd from his throne ? 
Chaos ! of nature, both the womb, and grave ! 

Think'st thou, my scheme, LoREif zo, spreads too 
wide ? 
Is this extravagant ? No ; this is jiist ; 
Just, in conjecttire, though 't^ve^e false in fact. 
If 'tis an error, 'tis an error sprung 
From noble root, high thought of the Most-high= 
But wherefore error ^ Who can prove it such ? 
He that can set Omnipotence a bound. 
Can man conceive beyond what God can do ? 
Nothing, but quite impossible, is hard. 
He summons into being, Avitli like ease, 
A whole creation, ttnd a single grain. 
Speaks He the word ! a thousand worlds are born ? 
A thousand w orlds ? There's space for million^. 

more ! 
And in w^hat space can his gi'eat^a^ fail ? 
Condemn me not, cold critic ! but indulge 
The warm inmginatioii : Why condemn ■* 
Wliy not indulge such thoughts, as swell our hearts 
With fuller admiration of that poxiir, 
"Wlio gives our hearts w ith such high thou|;htS to 

swell ? 
Why not indulge in his augmented pftiise ? 
Darts not his glox-y a still brighter ray. 
The less is left to chaos, and the realms 
M 



26S THE CONSOLATION. 

Of hideous night, where fancy strays aghast : 
And, though most talkative, makes no report ? 

Still seems my thought enormous ? Think again ' 
Experiejice 'self shall aid thy lame belief. 
Glasses (that revelation to the sight !) 
Have they not led us in the deep disclose 
Of fine-spun JVature, exquisitely small. 
And, though demoTistrated, still ill-conceiv' d ? 
If then, on the reverse, the mind would mount 
In magnitude, what mind can mount too far, 
To keep the balance, and creation poise ? 
Defect alone can err on such a theme ; 
What is too great, if we the cause survey ? 
Stupendous Architect ! Thou ! Thou ai*t all ! 
My soul flies up and down in thoughts of thee. 
And finds herself but at the centre still ! 
I AM, thy name ! Existence, all thine oxvn ! 
Creation^ s nothing ; flatter'd much, if stvl'd 
« T/w thin, the feet ing atmosphere of GOD." 

O foi- the voice— of Avhat .'' of whom ? What vole- 
Can answer to my wants, in such aset nt. 
As dares to deem one universe too small ? 
Tell me, Louenzo ! (for now fuicij glov.s, 
Fir'd in the vortex of Almighty pow'r) 
Is not this home-ci-eation, in the map 
Of I'viversal JVature, as a speck, 
Ifike fair Britannia in our little bsll ; 
Exceeding fair, and gloi'ious, for its size. 
But, elsewhere, far out-measur'd, far outshone ? 
Infancy (fov \\\e fact beyond us lies) 
Canst thou not figure it, an isle, almost 
Too small for notice, in the vatt of being ; 
Sever'd by mighty seas of unbuilt space. 
From other realms ; from ample continents ; 
Of liigher life, where noble natives dv. ell ; 
Less northern, less remote from DEiTr, 
Glowing beneath the line of the Supi-eme ; 
Where souls in excellence make haste, put forth 
Luxuriant growths ! nor the late autumn wait 
Of human worth, but ripen soon to Gods ? 



NIGHT NINTH. 2G7 

Yet why ^vown fancy in such depths as these ? 
Return, presumptuous rover ! and confess 
The bounds of man ; nor blame tliem, as too small. 
Enjoy we not full scope in what is seen ? 
Full ample the dominions of the Sun ! 
Full glorious to behold ! How far, how wide, 
This matchless monarch, from his flaining throne, 
Lavish of histre, throws his beams about liim, 
Farther, and faster, than a tliought can fly. 
And feeds his planets with eternal fires ! 
This heliopolis, by greater far 
Than the provid tyrant of the JV/7e, was built ; 
And he alone, who built it, can destroy. 
Beyond this ciiy, why strays human thought ? 
One wonderful, enough for man to know ! 
One infinite, enough for man to range ! 
One firmament, enough for man to read ! 
O what voluminous instruction here ! 
What page of wisdom is deny'd him ? None ; 
If learning his chief lesson makes him wise. 
Nor is instruction^ here, our only gain ; 
There dwells a noble pathos in the skies. 
Which warms our passions, proselytes pur hearts. 
How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! 
With what authority it gives its charge. 
Remonstrating great ti"uths in style sublime. 
Though silent, loud ! heai-d earth around ; above 
The planets heard ; and not unheard in hell ; 
Hell has her wonder, though too proud to praise. 
Is earth, then, more infernal ? Has she those, 
Who,neither praise, (LoaiEXZO !) nor admire ? 
.. Lorenzo's admiration, pre-engag'd. 
Ne'er ask'd aie moon one question ; never held 
Least correspondence with a single star ; 
Ne'er rear'd an altar to tlie queen of heaven 
Walking in brightness ; or her train ador'd. 
Their sublunary rivals have long since 
Engross'd his whole devotion ; stars malign, 
Wliich made their fond astronomer run mad 5 
Darken his intellect, corrupt his heart ,• 
Cause him to sacrifice his fame and peace 



268 THE CONSOLATION. 

To momentary madness, call'd delight. 

Idolater, more gross than ever kiss'd 

The lifted hand to LrjfA, or pour'd out 

The blood to Jove ! O Thou, to whom belongs 

JIU sacrifice ! O thou gi'eat Jove unfeign'd ! 

Divine I:vstrcctoii ! Thy first volume thisy 

For maiCs perusal ; all in Capitals ! 

In moo7i and stars (Heav'n's golden alphabet !) 

Emblaz'd to seize the sight; who rtms, may read; 

Who reads, can understand. 'Tis unconfin'd 

To Christian land, or Jetvry ; fairly writ. 

In language universal, to Mankind : 

A language, lofty to the learn 'd ; yet plain 

To those that feed the flock, or guide the plough. 

Or, from its husk, strike out the bounding grain. 

A language, worthy the great Mixn, that gieaks ! 

Preface, and comment, to the sacred page ! 

Which oft refers its reader to the skiesj 

As pre-supposing his fii'st lesson there. 

And scripture self ?i fragment, that unread. 

Stupendous book of wisdom, to the wise ! 

Stupendous book ! and open'd. Night ! by thee. 

By thee much open'd, I confess, O JSTight .' 
Yet more I wish ; but hoio shall I prevail 1 
Say, gentle JVight / whose modest, maiden beams^ 
Give us a 7ie7D creation, and present 
The world's gi'eat picture soften'd to the sight ; 
Nay, kinder far, far more indulgent still. 
Say, thou, whose mild dominions' silver key 
Unlocks our hemisphere, and sets to view 
Woi'lds beyond number ; worlds conceal'd by day 
Behind the proud, and envious star of noon ! 
Cansi thou not draw a deeper scene ? And shew 
The mighty Potentate, to who)n belong 
These rich regalia pompously display'd 
I'o kindle that high hope ? Like him of C/r,* 
I gaze around ; I search on ev'xy side — 
O for a glimpse of Him my soul adores ! 
As the chas'd hart, amid the desart waste. 



Job. 



NIGHT NINTH. ;:G9 

Pants for the living stream ; for Him who made her. 
So pants the thii*sty soul, amid the blank 
Of sublunaiy joys. Say, goddess ! Where ? 
Where blazes Ms bright court ? Where burns his 

throne ? 
Thou know'st : for thou art near him ; by thee, 

round 
Sis grand pavilion, sacred fame reports 
The sable curtain drawn. If not, can none 
Of thy fair daughter-train, so swift of wing, 
Who travel far, discover where he dweli§ ? 
A s^ar his dwelling pointed out beloiv* 

^ Ye Pleiades, ArchuntSf Jlfazaroth / 
And thou, Orion,-f of still keener eye ! 
S^y y^j who guide the wilder'd in the waves, 
And bring them out of tempest into port ' 
On which hand must I bend my course to find him ? 
These courtiers keep the secret of their Kiy& ; 
I wake whole nights, in vain, to steal it from them. 

I wake ; and, waking, climb JVi^ht's radiant scale, 
From sphere to sphere ; the steps by Nature set 
F6r man's ascent ; at once to tempt and aid; 
To tempt his eye, and aid his tow'ring thought ; 
'Till it arrives at the great goal of all. 
In ardent Contemplation's rapid car. 
From earth, as from my barrier, I set out. 
How swift I mount ! Diminish'd earth I'ecedes ; 
I pass the moon, and, from her farther side. 
Pierce heav'n's blue curtain ; strike into remote ; 

' Where, with his lifted tube, the subtil sage 
His artificial, airy journey takes. 
And to celestial lengthens human sight. 
I pause at ev'ry planet on my road, 
And ask for Him who gives their orbs to roll. 
Their foreheads fair to shine. From Saturn's ring, 
In which, of earths an array might be lost, 
With the bold comet, take my bolder flight. 
Amid those sovereign glories of the skies, 

• Matt. ii. 2. 
t Names of several Constellations ia the heavens. 



270 THE CONSOL.\TION. 

Of independent, native lustre, proud ; 

The souls of systems ! and the Lords of life, 

Through their wide empires ! What behold I notv ^ 

A wilderness of wonders burning I'ound ; 

Where larger Suns inhabit higher spheres; 

Perhaps the villas of descending Gods ! 

Nor halt I here ; my toil is but begim ; 

'Tis but the threshold of the Deity ; 

Or, far beneath it, I am groveling still ; 

Nor is it sti'ange ; I built on a mistake ; 

The grandeur of his works, whence /o% sought 

For aid, to reason sets his glory higher;- 

Who built thus high for worms (mere worms to 

Mm /) 
O where, Lorexzo ! must the Builder dwell ? 

Pause, then ; and, for a moment, here respire— 
If human thought can keep its station here. ' 
Where am I ? WTiere is earth ? Nay, where art 

thou, 
O S^m ? Is the Sun turn'd recluse ? And are 
Ifis boasted expeditions short to mine ? 
To mine, how short ? On Nature's Mps I stand. 
And see a thousand firmaments beneath ! 
A thousand systems! as a thousand gi-ains ! 
So mnch a stranger, and so late arriv'd, 
How can man's carious spirit not inquire. 
What are the natives of this world sublime. 
Of this so foi-eign, un-terrestrial sphere, 
Where mortal, untranslated, never stray'd ? 

*' O ye, as distant from my little home, 
As swiftest sun-beams in an age can fly ! 
Far from my native element I roam. 
In quest of new, and wonderful, to man. 
What province this, of his immense domain. 
Whom all obeys !* Or mortals here, or Gods ? 
Ye bord'rers on the coasts of bliss ! What are you ? 
A colony from heav'n ? Or, only rais'd, 
By frequent visit from heav'n's neighb'ring realms^ 
To secondaiy Gods, and half-divuie ? 
Whate'er your nature, this is past dispute. 
Far other life you live, far other tongue 



NIGHT NINTH. 271 

You talk, far other thought, perhaps, you think. 
Than man. How various are the works of God ! 
But say, what thought ? Is reason here enthron'd, 
And a'bsoUite ? Or se?ise in arms against her ? 
Have you t^vo lights ? Or need you no reveal' d? 
Enjoy your happy realms their golden age ? 
And had your Edex an abstemious Eve ? 
07ir Eve s fair daughters prove their pedigree, 
And ask their Adatws — ' Who taould not be rvise ? 
Or, if your \-iioiher fell, arc you redeem' d? 
And if redeem'd — is your Redeemer scorn' d? 
Is this your iinal residence ? If not. 
Change you your scene, translated ? Or by death ? 
And if by death ,• What death ? Know you disease ? 
Or horrid Tvar P With wa:-, this fatal hour, 
EuHOPA groans (so call we a small field. 
Where kings run mad.) In otir Avorld, Death de- 
putes 
Jntetnpera?ice to do tJie work of age ! 
And, hanging up the quiver j\*ature gave him. 
As slow of execution, for despatch 
Sends forth imperial butchers ; bids them slay 
Their sheep (the silly sheep they fleec'd before) 
And toss him twice ten thousand at a meal. 
Sit all your executioners on thrones ? 
With you, can rage for plunder make a God ? 
And bloodshed wash out ev'ry other stain i' 
But you, perhaps, can't bleed : From matter gross 
Your spirits clean, are delicately clad 
In fine-spun Ethei^, privileg'd to soar. 
Unloaded, uninfected ; How unlike 
The lot of man ! How few of human race 
By their own mud unmurder'd ! "How we wage 
Self-war eternal ! Is your painful day a 

Of hardy conflict o'er ? Oi-, are you still 
Raw candidates at school ? And liave you those 
Who disaftect reversions, as -with ns P 
But what are we ? you never heard of many 
Or earth ; the bedlam of the universe ! 
Where reaso?i (undiseas'd with you) runs mad, 
And narses folly's children as her oivn ; 



5riJ THE CONSOLATION. 

Fond of the foulest. In the sacred mount 

Of holinessy where reason is pronounc'd 

Infallible ; and thunders, like a God ; 

Ev'n there, by samts, the dcemons are outdone ; 

What these think wrong, our saints refine to right \ 

And kindly teach dull hell her own black arts ; 

Satan, instructed, o'er their morals smiles. 

Bi4t thisy how strange to you, who know not matt ! 

Has the least rumour of our race arrived ? 

Call'd here Elijah, in his flaming car ?* 

Pass'd by you the good EsrocH,-j- on his road 

To those fair fields, whence Lucifer was hurl'd ; 

Who bi'ush'd, perhaps, your sphere, in his descent, 

Stain'd your pure crystal Ether, or let fall 

A short eclipse from his portentous shade ? 

O ! that the fiend had lodg'd on some broad orb 

Athwart his way ; nor reach'd his present home. 

Then blacken'd earth, with footsteps foul'd in hell. 

Nor wash'd in ocean, as from Rome he pass'd 

To BniTAiTf's isle ; too, too, conspicuous there J 

But this is all digression : Where is He, ^ 

That o'er heav'n's battlements the felon hurl'd 
To gi'oans, and chains, and darkness ; where is H^, <♦ 
Who sees creation's summit in a vale ? 
He, whom, while man is 7naii, he can't but seek ; 
And if he finds, commences more than man. 
O for a telescope his throne to reach ! 
Tell me, ye leara'd on earth ! or blest ahone ! 
Ye searching, ye J^eiotonean angels ! tell, 
Where's your gi*eat Master's orb ? His planets 

where ? 
Those conscious satellites, those mornin^^-starSf 
First-born of Deitt ! from central love. 
By veneration most profound, thrown off; 
By sweet attraction, no less strongly dra^vn ; 
A-w'd, and yet raptured : raptur'd, yet serene : 
Past thought, illustrious, but with borrow'd beams ; 
In still approaching- circles, still remote^ 
Revolving round the Sun's eternal Sire ? 

• 2 Kings ii. II, t Genesis v. 14. 



NIGHT XINTH. 273 

Or sent, in lines direct, on embassies 
To nations — in what latitude ? Beyond 
Terrestrial thought's horizon ! And on what 
High errands sent ? Here human effort ends ; 
And leave me still a stranger to his throne. 

Full well it might ! I quite mistook my road. 
Born in an age more curions than devout : 
ISlove ioriA to fix the place of heav'n, or hell. 
Than studious this to shun, or that secure. 
'Tis not the curioiis, but the pious path. 
That leads me to my point : Lorexzo ! know. 
Without or star, or angel, for theii- guide,. 
Who worship God, shall find him. Humble lov&. 
And not proud reason, keeps the door of heav'n ; 
Love finds admission, where proud science fails. 
Man's science is the culture of his Iieart ; 
And not to lose his plummet in the depths 
Of A'ature, or the more profound of God. 
Either to know, is an attempt that sets 
The wisest on a level with the fool. 
To fothom JVature (ill-attempted here .') 
Past doubt is deep philosophy above : 

■ Higher degrees in bliss archangels take. 
As deeper learn'd ; the deepest, learnuig still. 
For, what a thunder of Omnipotence 
(So might I dare to speak !) is seen in all ! 
In man ! in earth ! In more amazing skies ! 
Teaching this lesson, pride is loth to learu— 
*' Not deeply to discern, not much to know, 

J Mankind was born tc Woxder, and Adouf.." 
And is there cause for higher wonder still. 
Than that which struck us from our past surveys ? 
Yes ; and for deeper adoration too. 
From my late airy travel unconfm'd. 
Have I learn'd nothing ! Yes, Lorenzo ! This ; 
Each of these stars is a religious house ; 
I saw their altars smoke, their incense nse, 
And heard hosannas ring through ev'ry sphere, 
A seminary fraught with future Gods. 
JSi*ature all o'er is consecrated gi'ound. 
Teeming with growth immortal, and divine. 



274 THE CONSOLATION. 

The gi'eat Proprietor's all-bounteous hand 
Leaves notlung waste ; but sows these fiery fields 
With seeds of reasoUy which to virtves rise 
Beneath his genial ray ; and, if escajj'd 
The pestilential blasts of stuliborn -will^ 
When grown mature, are gathered for the skies. 
And is devotion thought too much on earth. 
When beings, so superior, homage boast. 
And triiimph in prostrations to the Throne ? 
But wherefore more of planets, or of stars :* 
Ethereal journies, and, discover'd there. 
Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand ways devout, 
All JVatiire sending incense to the Throne, 
Except the bold, Lorenzo, of our sphere ? 
Op'ning the solemn sources of my soul. 
Since I have poui-'d, like feign'd ERiiiANrs, 
Mj flowing numbers o'er the flaming skies. 
Nor see, oi fancy, or of fact, what niore 
Invites the muse — Here turn Ave and review 
Our past nocturnal landscape Avide : Then say. 
Say, then, Lorenzo ! with what burst of heai't. 
The whole, at once, revolving in his thought. 
Must man exclaim, adoring, and aghast ? 
*' O what a I'oot ! O what a branch is here ! 
O Avhat a father ! What a family ! 
Worlds ! Systems ! and creations ! And creations. 
In one agglomerated clustei', hung, 
* Great Vine ! On Thee, on Thee, the cluster 

hangs ; 
The filial cluster ! infinitely spread 
In glowing globes, with various being fraught ; 
And drinks (Nectareous draught!) Immortal life. 
Or, shall I say (for it>ho can say enough ?) 
A constellation of ten thousand gems, 
(And, O ! of Avhat dimension ! of what weight !) 
Set in one signet, flames on the right-hand 
Of Majesty Divine ! The blazing seal. 
That deeply stamps on all created mind, 
Indelible, his sov'reign attributes, 

tJolmxv. ">. 



NIGHT NINTH. 2r5 

Omnipotence, and Love ! That, passing bound : 
And tJds, surpassing that. Nor stop we here, 
For want of poxv'r in Gou, l)ut thought in Man. 
Ev'n this acknowledg'd, leaves us still in debt ; 
li greater aught, that greater all is Thixe, 
Dread Sire! — Accc[)t this miniature of Thee; 
And pai-don an attempt from mortal thought, ^ 
In which archangels might have fail'd, unblam'd." 

How such ideas of tli' AoiiGnxt's potu'r. 
And such ideas of th' Ar-xionTr's j-j/an, 
(Ideas not absurd) distend the thought 
Of feeble mortals ? Nor of them alone ! - 
The fulness of the DErrr breaks forth 
In inconceivab^es to men, and Gods. 
Think, then, O think; nor ever drop the thought; 
How loio must man descend, Avhen Gods adore ! 
Have I not, then, accomplish'd my proud boast ! 
Did I not tell thee, " We would mount, Loue>'ZO ! 
And kindle our devotion at the stars .?" 
And have IfaiVd ? And did I flatter thee .? 
And art all adamant ' And dost contute 
All urg'd, with one irrefragable smile ? 
Lorenzo ! J^tirth, how miserable here ! 
Swear by the stars, by Him who made them, swear 
Thy heart, henceforth, shall be as pure as theij : 
Then /Aom, like them, shalt shine ; like them, shal 

rise 
From low, to lofty ; from obscure, to bright ; 
By due gradation, Xatnre^s sucred law. 
The stars, from whence ? Ask chaos — ^He can tell. 
These bright temptations to idolatry. 
From darkness, and confision, took their birth ; 
Sous of deformity ! From fluid dregs 
Tartarean, first they rose to masses rude : 
And then, to spheres opaque ; then dimly shone ; 
Then brighten'd ; then blaz'd out in perfect day. 
JVatiii'e delights in pi'ogress ; in advance 
From worse to better : but, when 7ninds ascend. 
Progress, in part, depends upon themselves. 
Heav'n aids exeilion ; greater makes the gi-eat ; 
The voluntary little lessens more. 



276 THE CONSOLATION. 

O be a man ! and tliou shalt be a God ! 
And lialf se'f-made ! — Ambition how divine 1 

O thou ambitious of (lisgrace aloue ! 
Still undevout ? Unkindled ?• — Tliough high-taught, 
School'd by the skies ; and pupil of the stars ; 
Rank coward to Xhn fashionable tuorld I 
Art thou asJiam^d to bt- nd thy knee to heav'n ? 
Curst fume of pride, exhal'd from deepest hell ! 
Pride in reHglon is man's highest praise. 
Bent on destruction ! and in love witli death ! 
Not all these luminaries, quench'd at once, 
Were half so sad, as one benighted mind. 
Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. 
How like a widow in her weeds, the nighty 
Amid her glimm'ring tapers, silejDt sits ! 
Hovf sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps 
Perpetual dews, and saddens Nature's scene ! 
A scene more sad sm -makes the darken'd soul. 
All comforts kill, nor leaves one spark alive. 

Though blind of heai't, still open is thine eye j 
Why such magnificence in all thou seest ? 
Of matter's gi'andeur, know, one end is this. 

To tell the rational, who gazes on it 

*' Though that immensely gi'eat, still gi'cater Ae, 
Whose breastj capacious, can embrace, and lodge, 
Unburden'd, Nature's universal scheme ; 
Can grasp creation Avith a single thought ; 
Creation grasp ; and not exclude its SIRE." 

To tell hira farther " It behoves him much 

To guard th' important, yet depending, fate 
Of being, brighter than a thousand Suns: 
One single ray of thought outshines them all." 
And if man hears obedient, soon he'll soar 
Superior heights, and on his purple wing, 
His pui'ple wing bc^drop'd with eyes of gold. 
Rising, where tho"ght is now deny'd to rise, 
Look doM'u triwnphant on these dazzling spheres. 

Why then persist ? No mortal ever liv'd 
But, dying, he pronounc'd (when words are time !) 
The whole that charms thee, absolutely vain ; 
/aiii, and far worse ? Think thou, with dying men ; 



NIGHT NINTH. 277 

O tondescend to think as angels think ! 

O tolerate a chance for happiness ! 

Our nature such, ill choice ensures ill fate ; 

And hell had been, though there had been no God. 

l3ost tho|^ not know, my new astronomer! 

Earth, turning from the Sun, brings night to man ? 

J\lan, turning from his God, brings endless night ; 

Where thou canst read no morals, find no friendf 

Amend no manners, and expect no peace. 

How deep the darkness ! and the gi'oan, how lotid ! 

And far, how far, from lambent are the flames ! 

Such is LoREXzo's purchase ! such his praise ! 

The proud, the politic, Lotiknzo's praise ! 

Though in his ear, and level I'd at his heart, 

I've half read o'er the volume of the skies. 

For think not thou hast heard all this from me ; 
My song but echoes what great ^'\''aiiire speaks. 
What has she spoken ? Thus the Goddess spoke. 
Thus speaks for ever : *' Place, at Nature's head, 
A Sov'r'ign, v/ho o'er all things rolls his eye. 
Extends his wing, promulgate s his commands. 
But, above ail, diffuses endless good ; 
To -whom, foi- sui'e redress, the wrong'd may fly : 
The vile, for mercy ; and the pain'd, for peace ; 
Sy whom, the various tenants of these spheres, 
Diversify'd in fortunes, i)!ace, and pow'rs, 
RaisM in enjoyment, as in vorth they rise. 
Arrive at length (if Avorthy such approach) 
At that blest fountain-head, from which they stream ; 
Wliere conflict pnst redoubles present joy ; 
And present joy looks forward on increase ; 
And that, on more ; no period ! ev'ry step 
A double boon ! fi promise, and a bliss.'* 
How eas)' sits this scheme on human hearts ! 
It suits their make ; it sooth' s their vast desires ; 
Passion is pleas'd ; an(: reason asks no more ; 
'Tis rational ! 'Tis great ! But what is thine ? 
It darkens ! shocks ! excruciates ! and confounds ! 
Leaves us quite naked, both of help and hope. 
Sinking from bad to worse ; few yea; s, the sport 
O? fortune ; then, the morsel of despair. 



278 THE CONSOLATION. 

Say, then, Lorenzo ! (for thou know'st it well) 
What's vice ? Mere want of compass in our thought. 
Religion^ what ? The proof of coinmo7i sense ; 
How art thou hooted, whei-e the least prevails ! 
Is it my fault, \i tJiese truths call thee fool P 
And thou shalt never be miscalVd by me. 
Can neither shame nor terror, stand thy friend ? 
And art thou still an insect in the mire ? 
How, like thy guardian-angel, have 1 flown ; 
Snatcli'd thee from earth ; escorted thee through all 
Th' ethereal armies ; walk'd thee like a God ; 
Through splendours of first magnitude, arrang'd 
On either hand ; clouds thrown beneath thy feet ; 
Ciose-cruis'd on the bright paradise of God ; 
And almost inti'oduc'd thee to the Throne ! 
And art thou still carousing for delight, 
Rank poison ; first, fermenting to \neve frothy 
And then subsiding into final gall? 
To beings of sublime, immortal make. 
How shocking is all joy, w hose end is sure ! 
Such. joy more shocking still, the more it charms / 
And dost thou choose what ends ere well begun ; 
And infamous as short ? And dost tbou choose 
(Thou, to whose palate, glory is so sweet) 
To wade into perdition, through contempt. 
Not of poor bigots only, but thy ot.i/)i ? 
For I have peep'd into thy cover'd heai't, 
And seen it blush beneath a boastful brow ; 
For, by strong guilt's most violent assault, 
Conscience is but disabled, not destroyed. 

O thou most awful Being! and most vain; 
Thy wall, \io\v frail ! how gl or iozis is thy pow'r? 
Though dread Eternity has sown her seeds 
Of bliss and woe, in thy despotic breast, 
Tho'i5!,h heav'n and hell, depend upon thy choice ; 
A butterfly comes cross, and both ai'e fled. 
Is this the picture of a Rational ? 
This horrid image, shall it be more just ? 
LoRExzo ! No : It cannot — shall not, be. 
If there is force in reason ; or, in sounds, 
Clianted beneath the glimpses of the moon, 



NIGHT NINTH. 279 

A magic, at this planetary hour. 
When slumber locks the gen'ral lip, and dreams 
Through senseless mazes hunt souls un-inspir'd. 
Attend— The sacred mysteries begin— 
My s«">lemn night-born adjuration hear ; 
Hearj .vid I'll raise thy spirit from the dust : 
While the stars gaze on this enchantment new ; 
Enchantment, not infernal, but divine ! 

* By sile7ice. Death's peculiar attribute ; 
By darkness, Guilt's inevitable doom; - 
By darkness, and by silence, sisters dread ! 
That draw the cvxrtain round Night's ebon throne. 
And raise ideas, solemn as the scene ! 
JBy night, and all of awful, night presents 
To thought, or sense (of awful much, to both. 
The Goddess brings !) By these her trembling^re^, 
Like Vesta's, ever burning ; and, like Aer's, 
Sacred to thoughts immaculate, and pure ! 
By these bright orators, that prove, and praise. 
And pi"ess thee to revere the Deity ; 
Perhaps, too, aid thee, when rever'd a while. 
To reach Ids throne ; as stages of the soul, 
Throi'.gh which, at diff'rent periods, she shall pass, 
RL-nuing gradual, for her final height. 
And purging off some dross at ev'ry sphere ! 
By this dark pall thrown o'er the silent world ! 
Ly the world's kings and kingdoms, most renown'd. 
From short ambition's zenith set for ever ; 
Sad presage to vain boasters, now in bloom ! 
By the long list of swift mortality. 
From Adam downward to this ev'ning knell. 
Which midrnght Avaves in fancy'' s startled eye ; 
And shocks hei' with an hundred centuries, (thought 
Round <leath^s black banner throng'd, in human 
By thousands, 7i07i\ resigning their last breath. 
And calling thee— — wert thou so wise to hear ; 
By tombs o'er tombs arising ; human earth : 
The monarch's terror / and the Sexton's trade / 
By pompous obsequies, that shun the day. 
The torch funereal, and the nodding plii me. 
Which makes poor man's humiliation proud ; 



280' THE CONSOLATiaN. 

Boast of our nun ! Triumph of our diist / " 
By the damp vault tliat ^^ eeps o'er royal bones ; 
And the pale lamp that shews the ghastly dead, 
JMore ghastly, through the thick incumbent gloom ! 
JBy A'isits (if there are) from dai'kcr scenes. 
The glitUng spectre ! and the gi-oaning gi-ove ! 
Sy groans, and graves, and miseries that groan 
For the grave's shelter ! By desponding men. 
Senseless to pains of death, from pangs of guilt ! 
By guilt's last audit ! By yon moon in blood. 
The I'ocking firmament, the falling st^rs, 
And thunder's last discharge, gi-eat Nature's knell ! 
By Second chaos ,- and Eternal JVight — 
Be wise — Nor let Philander blame my charm f^'' 
But own not ill-discharg'd my double debt. 
Love to the living; dnty to the dead.. 

For know, I'm but executor ; he left 
This moral legacy ; / make it o'er 
By his command ; Philander hear in me ; 
And hea\''n in both. If deaf t»o these. Oh ! hear 
Florello's tender voice ; his weal depends 
On thy resolve; it trembles at thy choice ; 
For his sake — love thyself: Example strikes 
All human hearts ; a bad example more; 
More still a Father's ; tliat ensures his ruin. 
As Parent of his Being, would'st thou prove 
Th' unnat'ral parent of his miseries, 
And make him cux-se the being which thou gav'st 
Is tlds the blessing of so fond a father ? 
If careless of Lorenzo ! spare. Oh ! spare, 
Florello's father, and Philander's friend ; 
Florello'.^ fatlier ruin'd, ruins him. ; 
And from Philander's friend the world expects 
A conduct, no dishonour to the dea;d. 
Let passion do, what nobler motive should ; 
Let love, and emzdation^ rise in aid 
To reason ; and persuade thee to be — blest. 

This seems not a request to be deny'd ; 
Yet (such th' infatuation of mankind !) 
'Tis the most hopeless, man can make to man. 
Shall I, then, rise in ai-gument, and Avanntli ^ 



NTGHT NINTH. 2W 

And urge Pbhaxder's posthumous advice. 
From topics yet unbroach'd ? 
But, Oh ! I faint ! My spirits fail ! Nor strange ! 
So long on wing, and in no middle clime ; 
To which my great Creator's glory call'd : 
And ca/^s»— but, now, in vain. Sleep's dewy wand 
' Has stiT>k'd my drooping lids, and proinises 
(If my fond wishes are not flatterers) 
My long aiTear of rest ; the downy God 
(Wont to return with our returning peacey 
Will pai/f ere long, an<l bless me with repose. 
Haste, haste, sweet stranger ! from the peasant's cot. 
The shin boy's hammock, or the soldier's straw, 
Whence sorrow never chas'd thee ; with thee bring, 
Not hideous visions, as of late ; but draughts 
Delicious of well-tasted, cordial, rest ; 
Man's rich restorative ; his balmy bath, 
That supples, lubricates, and keeps in play, 
The various movements of this nice machine. 
Which asks such frequent periods of repair. 
Wlien tir'd with vain i-otations of the tlay, ' 
Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn ; 
Fresh we spin on, 'till sickness clogs our wheels, 
Or Death quite breaks the spi'ing, and motion endau 
When will it end with me ? 

" THOU only know'st ! 

' Thou ! whose broad eye, thefiititre and the past^ 

Joins to the present ; making one of three 

To mortal thought \ Thou know'st, and Thou alone. 

All-knowing ! All unknown ! And yet well known : 

Near, tho' remote ! and, though unfathom'd, felt ! 

And though invisible, for ever seen ! 

And seen in all ! The greaty and the irdnute / 

Each globe above, with its gigantic race. 

Each flow'r, each leaf, with its small people swarm, 

declare 
(Those puny vouchers of Ommpotence /) 
To the first thought, that asks, * From whence ? 
Their common source. TaotJ fountain runnmg o'er 
In rivers of communicated joy ! 
Wko gav'st us speech for fai-, far hujaabler thejoaes ! 



282 THE CONSOLATION. 

Say, by what name shall I presume to call 

Him I see burninj? m these countless Suns, 

As JVToses in the bush* ? Illustrious mind ! 

The AvhvOle creation, less, far less to thee. 

Than that to t-he creation^s ample round. 

How shall I name Thee ?— How my lab'rlng soul 

Heaves underneath the thought, too big for birth ? 

*' Great system of perfections ! Mighty cause 
Of catxses mighty ! Cause vmcaus'd ; sole root 
0( JVatiire, that luxuriant gi'owth of Go» ! 
First Father of Effects J that progeny 
Of endless series; where the golden chain's 
Last link admits a period, — ^\Vho can tell ? 
Father of All that is or heard, or hears ! 
Father of all that is or seen, or sees ! 
Father of all that w, or shall arise ! 
Father of this immeasurable mass 
Of matter multiform ; or dense, or rare ; 
Opaque, or lucid ; rapid, or at rest ; 
Minute, or passing bound ! In each extreme 
Of like nmaze, and mystery, to man. 
Father of these bright millions of the JVight .'^ 
Of M hich the least full Godhead had proclaim'd. 
And thrown the gazer on his knee^ — Or, say. 
Is appellation higher still, thy choice .'' 
Father of matter^ s temporary lords ! 
Father of Spirits ! Nobler oftspring ! Sparks 
Of high paternal glory ; rich-endow'd 
With various measures, an<l with various modes 
Of instinct, reason, intuition ; beams 
More pale, or bright from clay divine, to bi'eak 
The dai-k of matter organized (the ware 
Of all cj^ea^er/ Spirit;) beams, that rise 
Each over other in superior light, 
'Til the last ripens into lustre strong, 
fin the throne's full eifulgence colour'd high) 
Of next approach to Godhead. Father fond 
(Far fonder than e'er bore that name on eaith) 
Of intellectual beings ! Beings blest 

• Exod. iii. 2. t Tbe Stars. 



NIGHT NINTH. 2SS 

With pow'rs to please Thee ; not of passive ply- 
To laws they know not ; beings lorlg'd in seats 
Of well-adapted joys, in diff'rent domes 
Of thy impei'ial palace for thy sons ; 
Of this proud, populous, veil policy 'd, 
-Though boundless habitation, i^Jann'd by Thee; 
\Vhose sev'ral clans their sev'ral climates suit ; 
And transposition, doubtless, would dcstro^^ 
Oi*, Oh ! indulge, immortal Kixg ! indulge 
A title, less august indeed, but more 
Endearing ; ah ! how sweet in human ears ! 
Sweet in our ears, and triumph in oui' hearts ! 
Father of immortality to man ! 
A theme that* lately sat my soul on fii'C. 
And Thott the next ! yet equal Thou, by Avhom 
That blessing was convey'd ; far moi'e ! was bought ; 
Ineffable the price ! By whom all worlds 
Were made ; and one redeeirCd! Illustrious light 
From light illustrious ! Thou, whose regal pow'r, 
Finite in time, but infinite in space. 
On more than adamantine basis fix'd. 
O'er more, far more, than diadems, and thrones, 
laviolably reigns ; the dread of Gods ! 
And Oh ! the friend of man ! Beneath whose foot. 
And by the mandate of whose awful nod. 
All regions, revolutions, fortunes, fates. 
Of high, of low, of mind, and matter, roll 
Through the short channels of expirmg timcj 
'fyr shoi'eless ocean of eternity. 
Calm, or tempestuous (as thy spirit breathes) 
In absolute subjection ! And, O Thou 
The glorious Third !f Distinct, not separate ! 
Beaming from both ! with both incorp'rate ! 
And (strange to tell !) incorp'rate with the dust ! 
By condescension, as thy glory, great, 
Enshrin'd in man ! Of human hearts, if purCf 
Divine inhabitant ! The tie divine 
Of heaVn with distant earth ! by wliom I trust, 
(If not inspir'd) uneensar'd this address 

• Nights Sixth and Seventh. t The Holy Ghost, 



284 THE CONSOLATION. 

To THEE, to THEM — To whom ? Mystei'ious pow'r I 

Reveal'd — ^yet unreveal'd ! Darkness in light ; 

Number in unity ! Our joy ! Our dread ! 

The triple bolt that lays all wrong in ruin ! 

That animates all right, the triple Sun 1 

Sun of the soul ! her never-setting Sun ! 

Triune, unutterable, unconceiv'd. 

Absconding, yet demonstrable, great God ! 

Greater than gi'eatest ! Better than the best ! 

Kinder than kindest ! with soft pity^s eye. 

Or (stronger still to speak it) with thiiie own. 

From thy bright home, from that high firmament. 

Where Thou, from all eternity, hast dwelt; 

Bi^yond archangels' unassisted ken ; 

From far above what mortals highest call : 

From elevation's pinnacle ; look down, 

Through — What i" Confounding interval ! Thro' all f 

And more than lab' ring ya7iC]/ can conceive. 

Through radiant ranks of essences unknown ; 

Through hierarcliies from hierarchies detach'd 

Round various banners of OviJfipoTEXCB, 

With endless change of rapt'rous duties fir'd ; 

Through wondrous beings interposing swarms : 

All clust'riug at the call, to dwell in Thee ; 

T\irough this wide waste of worlds ; this vista vast, 

Al| sanded o'er with Suns ; Suns turn'd to ni^ht 

Before thy feeblest beam — ^Lookdown — down--down, 

Oii a poor breathiiig particle in dust. 

Or lower — an immortal in his crimes. 

His crimes forgive ! forgive his viriiies too ! 

Those smaller faults, /irt//'-converts to the right. 

Nor let me close these eyes, which never more 

May see the Sun (though Night's descending scale 

Now weighs up morn) unpity'd, and unblest ! 

In thy displeasure dwells etei^nal pain ; 

Pain,, our aversion ; pain which strikes, me now g 

And, since all pain is terrible to man, 

Though transient, terrible : at thy good hour. 

Gently, ah ! gently, lay me in my bed. 

My clay-cold bed ! by nature, now so near \ 

By aature, near ; still nearer by disease J 



KIGHT NINTH. ^85 

'Till then, be this an emblem of my grave : 

Let it out-preach the preacher , ev'ry night 

Let it out-cry the boy at Phiiip's* ear ; 

That tongue of death ! That herald of the tomb ! 

And wheg (the shelter of thy wing implor'd) 

My senses, sooth'd, shall sink in soft repose ; 

t) sink this truth still deeper in my soul. 

Suggested by my pillow, sign'd hy fatCy 

First, in fate's volume, at the page of man^ — 

JVLan^s sickly soul, thoug-h tiirn'd and toss' d for ever, 

From side to side, can rest on nought biit Thee ; 

Here, in fidl trust ; hereafte"^ in full joy ; 

On THEE, the promis'd, sure, eternal down 

Of spirits, toil'd in travel through this vale. 

Nor of that pillow shall my soul despond ; 

For — Love Almighty ! Love Almighty ! fSing, 

Exult creation;) Love Almighty, reigns! 

That death of death ! That cordial of despair ! 

And loud Eternity's triumphant song : 

Of whom no more : For, O thou Patron-Grod \\ 
Thou Gof/ and Mortal! Thence moreGoCn to man! 
Man's theme eternal ! Man's eternal theme ! 
Thoc can'st not 'scape univjnr'd from onv praise. 
Uninjm''d from our praise can he escape. 
Who, disembosom'd from the Father, bo\^'S 
The heav'n of heav'ns, to kiss the distant earth ; 
Breathes out in agonies a sinless soul ! 
Against the cross, death's iron sceptre breaks ; 
From famish'd ruin plucks her human prey ! 
Throws wide the gates celestial to \nsfoes ! 
Theu- gratitude, for such a boundless debt. 
Deputes their suffering brothers to receive ! 
And, if deep human guilt in payment fails ; 
As deeper guilt prohibits our despair ! 
Enjoins it, as our duty, to rejoice ! 
And (to close all) omnipotently kind, 
:{: Takes his delight among the sons ofmen?^ 

What words are these ! And did they come frona 
heav'n ? 

• Philip king of Macedon. t Jesus Christ. % Prov. iriiL 31 . 



286 THE CONSOLATION. 

And were they spoke to man ? To guilty man i 

What ai-e all mysteries to love like this ? 

The song of angels, all the melodies 

Of 'choral gods, are wafted in the sound ; 

Heal and exhilarate the bi'oken heart, 

Though plung'd, before, m horrors dark as m'£-ht : 

Rich prelibation of consummate joy ! 

Nor wait we dissolution, to be blest. 

This final effort of the moral muse, 
How justly * titled.' Nor for me alone ; 
For all that read ; what spirit of support. 
What heiglits of Consolation crown my song ! 

Then, farewell Night ! Of darkness, now, nc 
more : 
Joy break rs ; shines ; triumphs ; 'tis eteimal day. 
Shall that which rises out of nought, complain. 
Of a few evils, paid with endless joys ? 
My soul, heticc^foitli, in sweetest union join 
The two supports of human happiness. 
Which some, erroneous, think can- never meet ; 
True taste of life, and constant tkoitght of death; 
The tliought of death, sole victor of its dread ! 
Hope be thy joy ; and probity thy skill ; 
Thy patron He, whose diadem has dropp'd 
Yon gems of heav'n ; eternity, thy prize : 
And leave the racers of the ivorld their own. 
Their feather, and their froth, for endless toils : 
They part with all, for that ivMch is not bread; 
They mortify, they starve", on wealth, fame, pow'r ; 
And laugh to scorn, the fools that aim at more. 
How must a spirit, late escap'd from earth, 
Suppose Philinder's, Lvcia's, or Nargissa's, 
The truth of things new-blazing in its eye, 
Look back, astonish'd on the ways of men. 
Whose lives' whole drift is to forget their gi-aves ! 
And when our present privilege is past. 
To scourge us with due sense of its abuse. 
The same astonishment will seize us all. 
W hat then must pain us, would preserve us nottf. 

*■ The Consolation, 



NIGHT NINTH. 287 

LoHEJfzo ! 'tis not yet too late ! LoaEirzo ! 
Seize wisdom, ere 'tis torment to be wise ; 
That is, seize luisdom, ere she seizes thee. 
For, what, my small philosoplier ! is hell P 
'lis notliij^g, but full knowledge of the truths 
When truth, resisted long^ is sworn our foe : 
And calls Eternity to doT.er right. 

Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light, - 
And sacred silence whisp'ring truths divine. 
And truths divine converting pain to peace,' 
My song the midnight raven has oatwing'd. 
And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes. 
Beyond the flaming limits of the world. 
Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight 
0{ fancy, when oui' hearts remain below .<* 
Virtue abounds in flatterers, and foes ; 
'Tis pride, to praise her; penance, to perform. 
To more than woi'ds, to more than worth of tongue, 
LoiiKxzo ! rise, at this auspicious hour; 
An liour, when heav'n's most intimate with man ; 
When, like a falling star, the ray divine 
Glides swift into the bosom of the just ,• 
And just are all, determin'd to reclaim : 
Whicli sets that title high, within tliy i-eacli. 
Awake, then : Thy PaiLAXDKR calls : Awake ! 
Thou, wlio shalt wake, when the creation sleeps ; 
Whc!i, like a taper, all these Suns expire : 
Whea Time, like him of Gaza"* in his wi'ath, 
Plucking the pillars that support the world. 
In Nature's ample ruins lies entomb 'd ; 
And MiDjfiGHT, universal Midnight ! reigns. 

* Sampson. Judges xvi. 29, 30. 




H 489 8 



- 0- *,_^_ 







Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: March 2009 



* A o^ PreservationTechnologies 

^ A WORLD LEADER IN COI ! FCTinNS PRESERVATION 

■^" ' 111 Thomson Park Drive 

/^ Cranberry Township, PA 16066 



